Waterdeep Conspiracy
by Fatality
Summary: (Champions of Thultanthar - Book I) In the wake of his exploits along the Sword Coast, the doppelganger Phendrana finds himself with everything he has ever wished for - an identity of his own, and friends who accept him for who he is. However, he also finds that there are consequences for every action - and the repercussions put him at odds with the Twelve Princes of Shade.
1. One - The Girl Among Princes

One: The Girl Among Princes

She stared down at Captain Leevoth's body with something like torture twisting her facial features, watching the shadow essence slowly leaving his lifeless form in the shape of wisps of black vapor. When all that shadowstuff was gone there would be nothing left of Leevoth, nothing left to give credit to one of the most loyal captains ever to serve Shade Enclave. What a waste.

A few minutes later she felt more than heard the arrival of someone behind her, but she did not immediately turn to regard the newcomer; instead she knelt down and busied herself about Leevoth's corpse, securing items she was certain the Most High would want recovered. Being archwizards who had spent seventeen centuries mastering the Shadow Weave, it was common practice to bring shadow-crafted artifacts back to the city when the original bearer was struck down.

But not Ironfang; she deliberately left the Shadovar captain's greatsword clenched in his black fingers. He would have preferred it that way, and as Leevoth hadn't been just some lowly commoner in life she felt compelled to honor him in some way.

Slinging the satchel of enchanted items over one shoulder she stood, and the shadowy figure of a man advanced to her side.

"This is the second time in the last tenday you have left the enclave without permission," sighed Vattick, the Ninth Prince of Shade, "and this time you left unaccompanied. Have you lost your sense? When the Most High hears of this – "

Soleil Chemaut, a half elf mountebank and the Left Hand of the Most High, couldn't suppress a frustrated sigh. "No one knows how long Leevoth has been dead – very soon his shadow essence will be expired also, and he will be no more. How can we determine how he was killed if we do not inspect his body?"

Vattick sidled closer to the slender half elf, easily slinging an arm around her shoulders and tugging her bracingly against his side – Vattick, one of the shortest of the twelve princes, still stood a full head over Soleil. "The Most High isn't interested in discovering _how_ Captain Leevoth died, only in who perpetrated the crime. Bringing the murderer to justice is his only interest."

"Well, it is still an interest of mine," Soleil told him stubbornly, and Vattick snickered at her insistence but did not argue. "It was a single stab to the chest that killed him; the blade was large. A bastard sword, or a greatsword, perhaps."

"Very helpful," chuckled the Ninth Prince, and when Soleil punched him in the ribs his laughter only intensified. They stood together for a few more moments, Vattick respectfully silent while Soleil gazed sadly down at the shade commander's motionless form, until the mountebank exhaled bitterly and freed herself from the prince's arm.

"Time to return to the enclave, and face the Most High One. I am certain he knows by now that I am not in the city."

Vattick reached out to her, offering one black hand, and the moment Soleil's fingers touched his they began the shadow walk back to the City of Shade.

* * *

Second Prince Rivalen and Fifth Prince Clariburnus waited quietly, half anxious and half irritated, several steps down from the Most High One's ornate throne as their sovereign and father mulled over the news they had just delivered. Their views on Soleil's departure from the city differed greatly, part of the reason they weren't discussing the matter at the moment; Clariburnus sympathized with the mountebank unfalteringly, including her desire to solve the mysteries surrounding Leevoth's death, while Rivalen often complained of being used as a babysitter. They had engaged in a rather heated argument on their way to the Palace Most High, and their bitter disagreements were far from forgotten; the Twelve Princes of Shade, all brothers, experienced periods of infighting and rivalry almost daily and weren't the type to dismiss grudges lightly.

High Prince Telamont, supreme ruler of the City of Shade and patron to the Twelve Princes, shifted his platinum glare from one son to the other without a word. Unfortunately it was generally considered a bad sign when the Most High was given less than thrilling news and didn't speak right away; both princes braced themselves for the outburst of Telamont's displeasure.

They were momentarily and unexpectedly spared, though, when Telamont rose from his throne and called out, "Hadrhune."

The name had barely passed the Most High's lips before another shadow-swathed figured appeared, only one stair step down from the dias upon which Telamont's throne sat – Hadrhune, the Right Hand of the Most High. The seneschal's amber eyes gleamed brightly from beneath the dark cowl of his cloak, and in his right hand he held his favorite black staff.

Prince Rivalen, long considered one of Hadrhune's greatest rivals, assumed the seneschal was about to be reprimanded and cackled wickedly beneath his breath; Prince Clariburnus, a good friend and trusted ally of Hadrhune's, set his iron-colored eyes on Rivalen in a glare that promised swift retribution. Hadrhune dug his thumbnail into the shaft of the black staff, a habitual action that belied his agitation.

"You summoned me, Most High One." The amber-eyed shade bowed low, his voice much more at ease than his posture suggested.

Telamont's eyes flashed toward his two sons; their expressions became smooth and expressionless again in the blink of an eye. "Yes – Rivalen and Clariburnus have just informed me that Soleil has left the enclave again. Is this true?"

Hadrhune's face remained impassive, though inwardly he was cursing the half elf in every tongue he knew – Soleil Chemaut, the Left Hand of the Most High, outside the considerable protection of Shade Enclave yet again? The implications of this knowledge did not bode well for Hadrhune; if he wasn't aware of the mountebank's disappearance, it was likely she had departed the city completely without escort – a luxury that Telamont Most High rarely permitted, even to his own sons.

"It is true, Most High," inserted Rivalen. "I scryed her myself; she has gone to the place where Leevoth fell."

"And why was she not stopped from leaving, _Hadrhune_?" High Prince Telamont stressed the seneschal's name at the end of his question, indicating that anyone who answered on Hadrhune's behalf again would regret it; Hadrhune did not miss the glitter of triumph that appeared in Prince Clariburnus's eyes and might have smiled himself, except that the Right Hand of the Most High seldom smiled at all. "I have looked into this matter myself – Leevoth's killer is not unknown to me. I am familiar with this curious doppelganger who calls himself Phendrana, as well as his companions. There was no reason for Soleil to depart without permission – much less unaccompanied."

"I had some things to attend to in the lower district," admitted Hadrhune, his thumbnail gouging the staff again. "Soleil must have slipped out while I was otherwise occupied. If it pleases the Most High, I will go now and collect her at once."

Only Hadrhune stood near enough to Telamont to see the High Prince's tiny nod of acquiescence. "Send her to me the moment you have returned."

Hadrhune bowed himself out of the audience chamber without another word.

"It is no secret that you both – and all of your brothers, as well – consider Soleil to be beneath your notice," said Telamont, turning to face Clariburnus and Rivalen once more. "Since she is both a non-shade and not of Shadovar birth I can see why you would think so, but it simply will not do for any of you to merely turn a blind eye when she chooses to depart the city on a whim. Remember that she has my favor, and remember also the talents she brings to the Shadow Council – gifts that she has used on more than one occasion to benefit us all. I will not tolerate this behavior again – see that your brothers receive the same message."

Telamont's eyes flashed so violently that they shone almost white, and suddenly Rivalen and Clariburnus found themselves crashing into one another, sailing backward, and colliding so hard with the double doors that they groaned off their hinges to deposit them none too gently in the grand hallway of the Palace Most High. Looking back they had a brief glimpse of High Prince Telamont standing to one side of his throne, his ceremonial robes billowing around him, before his umbral aura settled around him once more and the doors slammed in their faces. Leaning on his glaive for support Clariburnus clambered to his feet, Rivalen following suit; by the time they were fully upright the bruises they had sustained from the incident had already healed.

"I am afraid Soleil has overstepped her bounds this time," observed Rivalen, though he sounded completely remorseless – Clariburnus even thought he heard his older brother chuckle beneath his breath. "Woe betide her when Hadrhune drags her back to the Most High!"

* * *

They were hurrying down the corridor, Vattick half dragging Soleil with one hand clamped down upon her forearm, when they turned sharply into the grand hallway and nearly plowed into Hadrhune. The seneschal had the presence of mind to melt into the obsidian floor as a shadow so that the two stumbled harmlessly past, and when he sprang up again he was behind them. Soleil turned back to face him and felt a thrill of nervousness when she locked gazes with his burning amber eyes.

"The High Prince knows that I left?" guessed Soleil hesitantly, and Hadrhune barked out a single cold laugh.

"The Most High knows all," said Hadrhune, and he sounded exasperated as he turned his eye upon Vattick. "Do not tell me that you left the city as well?"

"Of course not," answered the Ninth Prince matter-of-factly, his dark face a mask of innocence, and Hadrhune glared daggers at him as Soleil doubled up with laughter. Twin Princes Mattick and Vattick were master illusionists both by trade and by practice, and were the only two among Telamont's sons who were naturally prone to tricks and jokes of any sort. Hadrhune, by nature a very serious man, was often the brunt of Vattick's jests – namely because he always got a laugh from watching the puzzled expressions that crossed the seneschal's face.

Hadrhune fixed Vattick with a withering look that suggested he did not believe a single word the prince had said before turning back to address Soleil. "I have specific instructions to bring you before the Most High – he is not at all pleased that you have disobeyed him yet again."

There was no avoiding it; Soleil squared her slender shoulders and sighed dejectedly before muttering, "Then it would be best not to keep him waiting."

Vattick flashed her a brief smile of his needle-point ceremonial fangs, seeming at once both piteous and amused. "Here is where I leave you, friend."

"Indeed," sighed the mountebank, and Hadrhune led her swiftly away.

* * *

Outside the intricately-hewn ebony doors that separated the grand hallway from the Most High's audience chamber Hadrhune turned to fix Soleil with a look that was very nearly beseeching. Sweeping the semi-darkened corridor once with his shrewd amber gaze to ensure that no prying eyes lingered upon them the seneschal pulled Soleil into a one armed embrace, his other hand still clutching his customary darkstaff. The mountebank wound her arms around his lithe shoulders, reluctant to release him – it was an incredibly rare moment when any physical contact was shared between them.

"It is in your best interest to obey Lord Telamont's will," growled Hadrhune in her ear. "Leaving the city at this time is not wise, if Leevoth may serve as an example – "

Soleil abruptly released Hadrhune; her eyes, an ever startling shade of acid yellow, were disapproving. "Leevoth's death is not an example: it is a lesson for us all to be vigilant. I am taking his death to heart by finding out all that I can, and I am certain the Most High will value my information if it comes to be of some use to the enclave. It is not always beneficial to follow the safest course." With that the mountebank turned sharply on her heel and admitted herself into the audience hall.

As she approached Soleil glimpsed six murk-swaddled figures gathered around the lowest stair leading to Telamont's throne, but the moment the half elf entered he sent them away with a simple wave of his hand; all six melted into the shadows intermingling along the walls. Soleil thought she saw Vattick among them, but she could not be sure.

Upon reaching the bottommost stair Soleil bowed as low as she could without crashing to the floor, not at all surprised when Telamont did not bid her to rise right away. The amount of time one spent in a position of proper obeisance waiting to be addressed was directly related to the level of the High Prince's displeasure, so the half elf was naturally puzzled when she counted a mere two hundred and twenty seven heartbeats before Telamont spoke.

"Approach." Telamont's voice was as sharp as a cold iron blade and quite unforgiving; straightening Soleil ascended the stairs at once, each step deliberate, waiting to be given pause. Reaching the same level as the Most High the mountebank dipped her head, half out of respect and half from fear – Telamont's most trusted and useful advisors themselves only ever reached the second highest stair. No one was ever permitted to stand on the same level as the High Prince.

She sensed movement but did not react, not even when one of the Most High's hands, wreathed in perpetual shadow, grasped her chin and guided her head up until she was looking him in the eye. Shocked to her very core, Soleil scarcely dared to breathe. Telamont's platinum glare held her in its intangible clutches for several excruciating seconds, until at last he rumbled, "Explain."

Soleil launched into a detailed reasoning of her departure, careful not to omit any information – except, of course, the fact that Prince Vattick had come down from the city to collect her before she got into more trouble. Stammering over her words she pushed the small satchel of items imbued with Shadow Weave magic toward Telamont, careful to describe the precise location and shape of the wound that had been Leevoth's undoing, and when it was all finished she fell silent, her face still clutched in the Most High's hand and fighting the urge to tremble.

Telamont studied her shrewdly when her confession was made, and when he spoke his words were completely unexpected. "The information you have given me is valuable, as are Leevoth's enchanted trinkets. However, do not think that is enough to justify your actions. You deliberately disobeyed my orders to remain in the enclave until other wishes were expressed, and you journeyed outside the city unaccompanied. What's more, you endangered one of my own sons, who felt obligated to follow you to ensure your own personal safety."

Soleil was not fool enough to ask the Most High how he knew this.

"What I do _not_ understand," Telamont continued, his voice thoughtful now, "is why you disobeyed me at all. It is not like you to work against my will – you are loyal and faithful to me, as you have been since the moment you sold your soul to me and entered into my service. Had you acted otherwise, I would never have gifted you with the powers you possess now."

The weight of Telamont's unspoken inquiry pressed down upon her; Soleil did not dream of arguing the point, or lying. Hanging her head in shame Soleil murmured, "It is for precisely that reason that I disobeyed you, High Prince. In pledging myself to you I made a vow to serve you to the best of my ability; when Leevoth died I knew I had failed. In seeking answers to the questions that surround Leevoth's death I hope to absolve myself, but I knew I would excite your wrath by doing so."

Was Telamont smiling now? "Never have I met one so quick to throw oneself upon a double-edged sword."

Soleil shrugged. "As with all things, the greatest triumphs can often only be reached by enduring the greatest pains. Suffering your displeasure is a price I am willing to pay if it enables me to better serve you in the future."

Telamont mulled this over carefully; he seemed to be fighting the urge to laugh. At length he cuffed her almost companionably upon the shoulder and said, "Some days you still astound me; no Shadovar is capable of seeing the world as you do. I sometimes wonder if it is your unusual way of viewing all ends that makes you so useful to me… There will be no punishment this time, but mark me: another incident like this one, and you will be very sorry indeed. Do not leave the enclave again until I instruct you. Is that clear?"

The mountebank sank into a bow of deepest gratitude. "Thank you, Most High One. I have no desire to work counter to your will – it is my only wish to serve you." Then Soleil straightened up and descended the stairs, and Telamont's shrewd gaze followed her out the door.

* * *

Soleil returned to her home, Villa Cloveri, immediately upon departing the Palace of the Most High and brooded for the remainder of the day. In the evening she wandered out onto the villa balcony and watched the sun go down beyond the Anauroch desert, glimpsed through the ever present veil of shadows cloaking the City of Shade, of course. When the enclave had plunged into a state of total darkness she withdrew into the blackened comfort of her private quarters and slept.

Sleep did not come easily; Soleil tossed and turned restlessly, too fitful to get any real rest, and when she did sleep she was plagued by distracting and vivid dreams. The mountebank at last woke in the hours after midnight to find that she was not alone; hovering above her in the darkness, his brilliant amber eyes the only immediately discernible feature, was Hadrhune.

Without thinking Soleil reached up, her lithe arms winding around the seneschal's narrow shoulders, and for once he did not object as she tugged him gently but insistently down to lay beside her.

"You were not present at the twilight gathering," said Hadrhune softly, rising up on one elbow and unlacing his cloak with his free hand to cast the shadowy garment over a chair nearby.

"I needed some time to consider today's events," admitted Soleil. "I was hoping the Most High would understand and excuse me – "

"Be at peace – the Most High is not angry. I was just saying that it is unfortunate you were not there; Prince Escanor has returned from Shadowdale with the news that he has found a group of phaerimm dwelling on the outskirts of the city."

The mountebank groaned and threw an arm over her eyes, outwardly exasperated that she had missed such a crucial council session but secretly disappointed that she had not been present for Escanor's return. First Prince Escanor was Telamont's oldest son and had been placed in charge of seeking out groups of scattered phaerimm, a job that often kept him out of the enclave for weeks at a time. Of all the shades in the city, Escanor was one of the easiest to get along with – and one of the most tolerant of Soleil.

Hadrhune read volumes into her silence. "I am certain the prince will still be present in the city tomorrow," he told her, making an attempt at reassurance but sounding irritated instead, and Soleil did not miss the seneschal's change of tone. By nature an undeniably jealous man, Hadrhune had long suspected Escanor of being enamored with Soleil.

Soleil's voice was dismissive as she played nonchalant – after all, she wasn't entirely innocent of being enamored herself. "Of course. The council never passes a decree with senior members missing."

The seneschal's voice was no less stiff when he answered, "Indeed."

In an attempt to assuage Hadrhune's doubts Soleil shifted and craned her neck to place a kiss to his throat; her lips moved lightly along his jawline, and after a few moments she felt the tension ease out of his body. Presently he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her nearer, her head resting upon his chest, and Soleil sighed contentedly.

"You were not completely honest with the Most High when you told him that you disobeyed him to gather information regarding Leevoth's death, were you?" murmured Hadrhune, one hand stroking the mountebank's back absentmindedly. "That isn't the reason – well, perhaps it is, but there is more to it than that."

"No, I wasn't perfectly truthful," Soleil admitted guiltily, "but the Most High would not have been pleased by the real answer."

"Tell me what it is about Leevoth's death that truly bothers you, then," pressed the seneschal, and Soleil had to fight to suppress a sigh. Would Hadrhune have the sympathy to understand what she was feeling, when shades rarely felt sympathy at all? Would anyone? She privately decided that if a half truth had fooled the Most High, perhaps the same principle would be good enough for Hadrhune.

"It concerns me how little we really know about Leevoth's murder. The killer is still at large; what if this isn't an isolated incident? What if you, the Most High, and all the Most High's sons are in danger?"

Amazingly Hadrhune barked out a harsh rasp of a laugh at this explanation; when Soleil lifted her head to gaze up at him curiously he said, "You cannot believe that! You have more faith in the strength of the Tanthul family than anyone, and refuse to assume there is a singular power in all the world that could best the High Prince. Even the phaerimm cannot muster the might necessary to pose a threat to Shade. No more lies – tell me the truth now."

Soleil hesitated, ashamed, but couldn't look away from Hadrhune's ever-intense amber eyes when she admitted glumly, "My link did not encompass him… This tragedy is my fault."

Years ago when Soleil had pledged her soul to Telamont's service, the Most High had gifted the mountebank with a multitude of impressive and mysterious abilities. Yet there was one trait Soleil had received that she prized above all others – a talent the Most High had intended to grant her or not, Hadrhune wasn't certain; it was an empathetic link to Telamont, the Twelve Princes of Shade, and the High Prince's chosen emissary Hadrhune. An undeniably useful technique, Soleil had used this link on numerous occasions to determine the whereabouts of a prince in dire need – even Rivalen and Sixth Prince Yder, long opposed to the mountebank's presence on the Shadow Council, had been saved from certain perils by this uncanny connection. Hadrhune could recall one instance in particular when he himself had been ambushed by phaerimm just south of a Bedine encampment; not only had Soleil appeared in the nick of time, she had slain all the creatures singlehandedly.

Though Soleil used this strange ability to protect Telamont and his sons, it did have its drawbacks. Over time the mountebank had become somewhat consumed by her unrelenting desire to keep the Tanthul family safe, making Soleil somewhat paranoid, and worst of all the link was exclusive only to the Tanthuls. Shades like Leevoth, while certainly not simple merchants or commoners, were of no relation to Telamont and thus quite outside of Soleil's knowledge and influence.

In a rare act of compassion Hadrhune leaned closer, brushing his dark lips over Soleil's pale pink ones in a tender and reassuring way. "We live in a city of five hundred shades and twenty five thousand Shadovar – while I do not deny your power, I must tell you that even one person as capable as you cannot hope to save every being in the enclave from danger. Such is merely the way life progresses. There is nothing you could have done to deliver Leevoth to a kinder fate."

Soleil's face, generally radiant with self confidence, was twisted with turmoil. "But if this is only the beginning, and the killer targets one of the princes – "

"Enough, Soleil." The seneschal's tone of voice had grown stern. "The Princes of Shade are not only the most powerful individuals in the enclave, they are also the most well protected. It isn't feasible for even a master assassin to attempt to infiltrate the City of Shade, much less threaten the lives of the Most High and his sons. You needn't worry." Seeing that the mountebank still didn't look altogether convinced Hadrhune added, "Do you know of a force in all the world capable of matching the might of the Most High?"

"No," answered Soleil without even a hint of hesitation, her sunshine yellow eyes hardening with something like stubbornness.

"Then that is your answer," concluded Hadrhune, and the words sounded final. "If you truly believe in the Most High, your concerns are unfounded. You are being unreasonable." As he finished the seneschal disentangled himself from the pensive faced mountebank, retrieving his shadow shroud and flinging it over his shoulders again. Soleil didn't bother protesting; Hadrhune rarely shared her bed, namely out of paranoia that the Most High would catch wind of the deed and disapprove. He offered her a brief flash of his ceremonial fangs, and then the seneschal melted into shadow and was gone.


	2. Two - Paths Crossing

Two: Paths Crossing

It was a day just like every other; Phendrana was manning the starboard side of the grand mercenary vessel _Water Falcon_, a bow in one hand and his eyes upon the horizon, when he heard a voice call out to him from the crow's nest. Glancing up with his free hand shielding his eyes from the harsh glare of the sun he could just make out the silhouette of the tiefling Aidan Alderoak as she was leaning over the guardrail, and when she was certain she had his attention she shouted, "I've had a thought!"

This, Phendrana decided immediately, was by far the most interesting thing that had happened in all the hours they had been at sea this day. The waters off the coast of Baldur's Gate were calm, and since they had shoved out of port just past dawn they hadn't spied a single pirate vessel upon the waves; it was just past midday and Phendrana had just been thinking of a light repast to tide him over until they made port that evening. He didn't see the harm in hearing Aidan out – after all, the day had been an uneventful one – so he waved her down and she instantly set to navigating the ladder down from the crow's nest. Phendrana slung his bow over his shoulder by the string and resigned himself to waiting patiently for her.

The doppelganger Phendrana had spent the last month in his natural form, but even after that period of time he still wasn't quite used to being himself even around his very closest friends. After twelve decades of assimilating the personalities of deceased heroes into his psyche and using his unique talents to complete their endeavors Phendrana had at last discovered his heart's true desire – to be himself, and be loved for the person that he really was. He had followed his loved ones from the peaks of the Frostfell south to the Baldur's Gate region all while impersonating an aasimar called Kiora Silvenstorm, and it was while serving as a sellsword to a lesser noble of the region that Phendrana had finally begun to struggle with his lifestyle. His desire to remain with the friends he had forged on his most recent journey had become a conflict of interest, namely because he had lied to them from the very start and pretended to be someone who no longer existed; the strain of keeping up such pretenses had only intensified when Phendrana had come across the leader of the pirates they had been contracted to eliminate – Daermond, a rakshasa who, like Phendrana, possessed overwhelming powers of the mind. It was through Daermond's constant mental intrusions that Phendrana had at last been forced to reveal his true form to his loved ones or risk dooming them all; he had given in to protect them, though he never could have anticipated their reactions. Through some initial difficulties comprehending the truth they had all accepted him, and after much emotional debate Phendrana had at last decided to remain by their sides.

So lost was Phendrana in his musings that Aidan actually had to nudge the doppelganger with her elbow to get his attention, and when his eyes fell upon her he couldn't help but smile. Aidan was a half-demon, and favored her unholy patron in both looks and temperament; her skin was dark as a drow's, her eyes orange and her boyishly-cut rust-colored hair couldn't quite hide the stubs of demon horns she bore. It was the promise of treasure that had drawn her to Luskan those months ago when Phendrana had first become acquainted with her, for it was the place to which adventurers were flocking to answer the call for sellswords willing to delve into the treacherous Frostfell. Phendrana had heeded the call for a different reason, of course – he was searching for one of the chosen of Iborighu who reputedly knew where to find Leevoth, the shade who had murdered Kiora Silvenstorm's family. It was Aidan who had dealt the deathblow to Leevoth, but with the shade dead Phendrana saw little point in complaining – Kiora's family had at last been avenged.

"You had a thought?" Phendrana greeted offhandedly, but Aidan was interrupted before she could respond.

"A rare thing, that is," remarked Aust from the port side, snickering at his own joke as he absentmindedly spun his own longbow end-over-end with precise movements of his hands, and volatile Aidan immediately went for her double-bladed sword as the rugged half elf laughed heartily at his own joke and crossed the deck to join them.

Phendrana hadn't yet fully sublimated the residual pangs of guilt he felt when he looked Aust in the eye, and was starting to wonder if such a thing was within his power at all. He had met Aust for the first time in the same tavern in Luskan where those journeying to the Frostfell were congregating, for the half elf had left his home in search of a sentient sword that supposedly housed the spirit of his beloved father. Just as the rest of Phendrana's companions had come to be acquainted with Kiora, so too had Aust; unfortunately in the half elf's case, he had fallen immediately and desperately in love with the woman whom Phendrana was impersonating at the time. Though Aust had been just as accepting as the others of Phendrana's true identity when at last it was revealed he had taken the knowledge that Kiora Silvenstorm was long dead very hard indeed, as though he had truly lost a loved one. He didn't speak of it now and seemed content enough with the way things had played out, but occasionally a hint of sadness crept into his expression when his eyes met Phendrana's that made the doppelganger wish he had never lied to the poor man in the first place.

The moment Aust was within arm's length, Aidan wasted no time in punching him in the shoulder; the half elf laughed, but the bronze gauntlet the tiefling wore caused him to rub his arm after the fact. Aidan eyed him inhospitably when she said, "At least I am coherent enough most of the day to form an intelligible thought – which is more than I can say for you."

This, Phendrana privately admitted, was very true; Aust had had a bottle in his hand the moment they had met, Phendrana recalled, and was prone to bouts of heavy drinking almost daily. It was a common occurrence that they found the half elf passed out beneath a table, or engaging in all manner of foolhardy drunken activities.

The insult was not lost on the roguish half elf, but he paid it no heed and responded with a grin and a bemused, "Touché, madam. Now let us hear this profound thought of yours! Perhaps it will liven up this voyage."

"Hear hear!" called little Ivy Meehan from the bow, and she lowered her spyglass to her side and moved to join them. Of the four of them, the halfling Ivy was the only one who had not set out from Luskan as a part of their traveling party – it was actually sheer happenstance that their paths had crossed with hers at all, for Phendrana had found her locked in an ice chest deep within Frostfell Manor. How she had come to be there they had never discovered, and the halfling had never been keen on discussing the events leading up to her imprisonment with any of them. She bounded up to where they had congregated beneath the crow's nest, her movements full of childlike grace and her strawberry curls bouncing around her round, cherubic face. "A more uneventful day at sea there has never been."

There issued a heavy sigh from the helm, and the four seafaring mercenaries turned a little ashamedly to face the man currently guiding the _Water Falcon_ over the calm cerulean waves – Alvaro Rosalles, commander of Duke Eltan's anti-pirate task force and captain of the magnificent vessel upon which they currently sailed. He wore his black hair just past his shoulders and tied back with a thin leather strap and a jeweled rapier with golden roses inlaid into the filigree in a sheath upon his hip; his face was fair but tanned from constant exposure to the sun, and his eyes matched the hue of the deep seas. Rosalles had been their commanding officer since they had thrown their lot in with the duke, and had vied against Aust for Kiora's affections before the two men knew of Phendrana's true identity. Through several acts of selfless sacrifice Phendrana had somehow been able to convey his true feelings to Rosalles, and in the aftermath of their struggles against Daermond he and Phendrana had mutually decided to continue their relationship. They cared for one another deeply, it was true, but Phendrana's half-truths hadn't yet been forgotten by all parties involved and the wounds they had caused had not healed.

Rosalles leveled a mildly displeased look Ivy's way, his eyebrows drawn in disapproval when he said, "You do realize I can hear you? You should be thankful that the day has been uneventful. It means that our efforts to purge the seas of pirates have been successful, and that order is returning to the Sword Coast."

Aust rolled his eyes skyward and twirled his longbow through another complicated maneuver, saying, "I'd take a hard day killing pirates over standin' around with my thumbs up my arse any day, if it's all the same to you, Rosie."

The captain scowled at Aust's ill-advised nickname for him and signaled for his first mate, a particularly surly dwarf named Baern, to take the wheel; striding across the deck he joined them, his supple black boots making barely a sound upon the well-worn planks. When the five of them stood together in a loosely-knit circle he winked at Aidan and said, "Now your thought will be common knowledge, my friend, for here we all are and anxiously awaiting your words!"

The tiefling shrugged as though it hardly mattered, and Phendrana supposed it didn't – Aidan had little use for secrets, having no friends outside the four of them. "I was just thinking of our dealings in the Frostfell."

"Oh?" said Phendrana curiously, and within the vast and complex recesses of his mind he felt the ever-present consciousnesses of his six deceased comrades rouse at Aidan's words. "What of them?"

Aidan's gaze was slightly vacant, as though she was glimpsing something that wasn't entirely present. "It occurred to me that we were in such a hurry to collect our rewards from Luskan that we neglected to peruse Frostfell Manor." Then she clenched her fist and finished with a wicked smile, "Think of the riches within those walls… Riches far greater than the trinkets we received in Luskan!"

Phendrana glanced alternately at Aust, whose eyes were shining greedily with the prospect of coming into more wealth, and Ivy, who was notorious for launching herself headlong into dangerous situations for the promise of anything that glimmered brightly enough, and sighed. The idea of returning to the Frostfell was not an attractive one to him, for reasons the others likely wouldn't consider – namely Kiora, who spoke up from the doppelganger's subconscious.

_I had rather hoped to put this business with Leevoth far behind us,_ the aasimar languished, and Phendrana worked not to roll his eyes reflexively; of all the inhabitants of the doppelganger's mind, Kiora was the most prone to melodrama.

_As had I,_ he agreed at length, and glancing at Rosalles he said, "With all due respect, I would prefer not to return to the Frostfell. Kiora suffered many painful experiences and memories at Leevoth's hands, and I daresay it would be quite thoughtless of me to expose her to further hurt at the shade's expense."

Aust and Rosalles both visibly flinched at the mention of the late aasimar's name, and Phendrana inwardly berated himself for living up to the moniker of 'thoughtless' without even trying. His sorrow must have shown through in his expression, for in the next instant Aidan was winding an arm around his slim shoulders and Ivy was clinging to one of his hands with both of her own, saying in her tinny voice, "But Phendrana, we can't go without you! We're a team, remember? Just like you said! Please can we go? Please?"

Phendrana heaved a pained sigh, but looking into the halfling's innocent face with its deep dimples and radiant smile he found that he didn't have the heart to refuse her. Instead he tightened his abnormally long fingers around her petite yet chubby hands and returned her heartfelt smile, saying, "I suppose I could oblige you, since you all seem so taken with the idea. What say you, Alvaro? Do you think you could spare the time to accompany us?"

Rosalles was looking torn. "Phendrana, you know that I would follow you in a heartbeat if I could, however… It sounds as though this journey will be a lengthy one. I can't afford to be away from Baldur's Gate until the threat of piracy has declined enough for Duke Eltan to allow me to move about freely. In the wake of Daermond's defeat… That is to say, it has only been a month since…"

The mercenary commander trailed off, embarrassment raising a faint shade of red into his cheeks; Phendrana opened his mouth to assuage his fears, but Aidan was one step ahead of him.

"The journey will be instantaneous," she corrected, and rummaging in her pocket she came up with a smooth black stone whose curious surface reflected nothing despite the harsh rays of the sun striking it. "We received this from the master of the manor after we struck Leevoth down on our previous visit. It is a gateway to the manor that allows us to return there whenever we wish. We can be gone at a moment's notice, and return just as quickly."

They were all looking at Rosalles now, Phendrana perhaps most appraisingly of all; after all, this was really the first true test of the mercenary's trust in him, which had been undeniably shaken by the severity of all that Phendrana had revealed after Daermond's death. Rosalles frowned down at the stone resting in Aidan's upturned palm for a moment before turning his gaze upon Phendrana, who expected the open suspicion that met him and accepted it without complaint. Finally Rosalles nodded once and patted Phendrana's upper arm – partly in reassurance and partly in apology, it seemed.

"I don't see why not," he said at last, and his familiar roguish smile returned and dispelled the last of Phendrana's doubts. "Perhaps a break from the monotony will be good for all of us… Very well. We can depart tonight when we make port."

* * *

Soleil did not sleep soundly; the knowledge that she had displeased the Most High by deliberately disobeying his orders, coupled with the ever-frustrating nature of her relationship with Hadrhune, caused her to toss and turn fitfully until the earliest hours of the morning. She awoke feeling as though she hadn't slept at all, further irked when she realized that she had missed the breakfast hour and her housekeeping staff was already hard at work tending to their daily duties, and so dressing herself haphazardly she exited her own villa, wended her way around the grand fountain that served as the centerpiece of the Circle, and knocked tiredly upon the great front doors of Villa Illumen, the abode that twin princes Mattick and Vattick shared.

She was ushered inside and fussed over by the ever-groveling house slaves, who were well acquainted with her and knew well the lofty nature of her station; though it confused her to learn that the twin princes were expecting her Soleil shrugged out of her deep purple traveling cloak and allowed one of the housekeepers to take the garment from her before trekking up the stairs to Ninth Prince Vattick's private chambers. Once there she knocked timidly, but the door was cracked open and she took this as a sign that she should admit herself.

Mattick and Vattick were indeed waiting for her; the former was seated at the wide desk they often used for alchemical purposes, and the latter was standing over his twin with hands on hips and eyebrows raised almost mutinously.

"Impertinent fool!" Vattick hissed, knocking the pestle from his twin's hand with a sharp _smack_. "Did I not specifically instruct that the snow berries were to be added _after_ the turmeric root?! And you wonder why it reeks of rothe dung in here!"

"You will most certainly not blame this catastrophe on me!" Mattick roared back, waving one hand vigorously to clear the acid-green fumes that were now wafting up from the failed potion they had been concocting together. "You told me to add three dragon's tongues, when clearly just one would have been sufficient!"

"I said _two_ dragon's tongues!" howled Vattick, clapping one hand against his own forehead in exasperation. "Are you daft?!"

"You said three, you lay about!"

A weak half smile crossed Soleil's face, and closing the door gently behind her she cleared her throat timidly; the twin illusionists glanced up to regard her with genial smiles and enthusiastic waves, and circling the alchemist's table Vattick wound an arm around her shoulders and steered her to the adjacent corner of the room where a modest brunch spread had been laid out for her – most likely at his express wish. Soleil was flattered by his consideration and fell upon the meal almost at once, her stomach churning with hunger, as Vattick took it upon himself to pour her a half-glass of pomegranate juice.

"I anticipated that you would be hungry," he explained in response to her quizzical expression, handing her a warm carving knife and snickering to himself when she immediately set to work slicing the loaf of honey wheat bread before her. "Brennus visited an hour ago and mentioned that he called upon you, only to find that you were still asleep. He was interested in hearing your account of Frostfell Manor… it seems as though he wishes to visit the place himself, though for what reason I cannot guess."

"I will call upon him later," Soleil mused, her eyes upon the ever-flowing hourglass that teetered on the edge of Vattick's study desk and discerning the time. "It is not quite noon… He will be busy at the Shadow Mages' College now, most likely delivering a lecture to the loremasters-in-training."

"You missed little in your absence from the twilight gathering last night," Mattick remarked offhandedly, prodding the contents of their alchemical experiment with the pestle, which by now had achieved the consistency of slightly-hardened goo. "Save for Escanor's return from Shadowdale, though even that was somewhat anti-climatic. His campaign has worn him down, I think – the Most High even felt it necessary to dismiss him from all of today's events. He looked a mess, didn't he brother?"

"Positively dreadful," Vattick agreed, and balancing his chin upon his fist he surveyed Soleil shrewdly as she all but inhaled her first slice of warm bread. "You have been confined to the boundaries of Thultanthar again, haven't you?"

Soleil was appalled. "Surely the Most High did not share my sentence with the Shadow Council?!"

Vattick chuckled at her undignified outburst. "Be at peace – your punishment was not mentioned even in passing, and your absence from last night's council was not addressed." He tossed a playful wink her way, adding, "You just seem to be on quite the rebellious streak lately, and we all know by now that your exploits only serve to end with the Most High restricting your movements."

Soleil managed to devour half a golden apple before she condescended to reply. "I hardly think that seeing to the remains of a senior lieutenant of the Army of Shade qualifies as an 'exploit', but yes, I am forbidden to leave the enclave until further notice."

"You picked an inopportune time to place yourself in the Most High's disfavor," Mattick replied vaguely. "Escanor has not yet provided us with the details, but he did mention that he intends to lead a battalion back into Shadowdale in pursuit of some as-yet-unnamed foe."

"I suppose it stands to reason that your sentence makes you exempt from consideration for this journey," Vattick wondered, and he offered the mountebank a sympathetic look as she slouched further down in her chair looking quite dejected.

"It can't be helped," she grumbled. "I knew the consequences of my actions when I left the enclave. At least I was able to honor Leevoth's remains, and lay him to rest with Ironfang."

Mattick's head snapped up at these words, the now-solidified alchemical mass glued to the pestle all but forgotten. "Ironfang?! Surely… surely you did not leave Leevoth's sword back in the Frostfell?!"

Cold dread settled in the pit of Soleil's stomach at the scandalized expression Mattick cast her way, effectively spoiling her appetite. "Of course I did… Leevoth would have been pleased!" Her sense of certainty dissolved in the next instant, however, when she snapped her gaze upon Vattick and hissed, "Would he not?"

Vattick shrugged his shoulders once helplessly, saying, "Perhaps Leevoth would have found your parting gesture fitting, but the Most High will not respond in a similar fashion when this news reaches him. Ironfang served as Leevoth's badge of office, an enchanted greatsword hand-picked from the High Prince's personal armory… It is undoubtedly a Tanthul family heirloom."

Soleil wailed and tangled her fingers into her hair, causing the twin princes to flinch in their chairs. "This cannot be! But what will become of it?!"

"There are shadow enchantments woven into the blade, if memory serves," Mattick mused, tapping one index finger thoughtfully against his chin. "Doubtless it will dissolve from over-exposure to sunlight, just as Leevoth's body will."

"But don't you see?!" Soleil shrieked, leaping from her seat at the dining table as though electrocuted. "It is my responsibility to retrieve it! If the Most High learns of this blunder, the consequences – "

" – Will not be even half as severe as the consequences you will surely suffer if you defy the High Prince and travel beyond the boundaries of Thultanthar!" Vattick reminded sternly. "You are an even greater fool than my twin if you believe you can make this journey without incurring the Most High's wrath, Soleil Chemaut! Barely half a day ago you were forbidden to leave the enclave, and you would do well to heed the High Prince's warning!"

Soleil's face grew paler by the minute as she considered the two courses of action that lay before her, for the prospect of following either was far from appealing. Either she could follow the High Prince's order and remain within the enclave – all the while resigning herself to her sovereign's wrath when he discovered that one of the precious pieces of his armory was forever lost – or she could defy the Most High's decree yet again, and hope that he would be impressed by her dedication to him and her ever-present desire to please him. To the mountebank, there was only one real choice.

"I must try," she breathed in a rush, her voice almost pleading, and Vattick crossed his arms firmly across his chest while fixing her with a disapproving glare.

"Then do as you will," he bade her mutinously, "but do not expect me to intervene on your behalf a second time!"

* * *

The single black-and-purple cloaked and hooded figure swept through the darkest streets of Shade Enclave's lower district, moving swiftly and stealthily for the stable where the winged shadow beasts, the veserabs, were housed. The streets were almost empty—save for a single man lingering in the deepening darkness near the stables, who made himself known when the shrouded figure drew near.

"And where might you be going?" The seneschal Hadrhune peeled himself away from the shadows and solidified about twenty feet away, positioning himself precisely between Soleil and the stables. "If you are traveling within the city—which is the only place you have permission to go—you have no need of a veserab."

Soleil Chemaut lowered her hood and shook her ebony hair back over her shoulders, her striking face sharp with undeniable guilt – she had been caught, and she knew it. "I do believe this qualifies as a gross intrusion of my privacy, Hadrhune."

"Privacy?" snickered Hadrhune, his amber eyes dancing maliciously within his shadow-swathed face. "You have no privacy. The Most High has ordered me to take note of your whereabouts every waking moment, until he feels he can trust you again. Now I will only ask once more – where are you going?"

Soleil saw little point in being dishonest. "I have every intention of leaving the city for a short time, on an errand of great importance."

"And did you receive the express permission of the Most High One to go about this errand?" asked Hadrhune, in a tone that suggested he sincerely doubted she had.

Again, and most surprisingly, Soleil did not lie; her face crumpled into an expression of intolerable anguish and she stumbled forward, her hands outstretched toward Hadrhune beseechingly. "My intentions are good! I desire only to journey back to the Frostfell, to the place where Leevoth—"

"Enough!" growled Hadrhune, his thumbnail gouging the notch in his darkstaff a little deeper. "Does your foolishness know no bounds? The High Prince told you in no uncertain terms that you are forbidden to travel outside the enclave until further notice! If you leave now, your punishment will be swift, severe, and without mercy!"

"It isn't like that!" Soleil seized the front of Hadrhune's cloak with both her hands, bringing her face closer until they were mere inches apart. "I made a terrible mistake, leaving Ironfang in that place! What if someone comes along and takes it? I will be responsible for the disgrace of a senior captain of the City of Shade!"

The seneschal's amber eyes grew thoughtful; he could not imagine that the Most High would approve of the loss of Ironfang, or be pleased if it fell into the hands of any non-Shadovar. He was just opening his mouth to reply when another voice wafted up from down the lane.

"Hadrhune? Soleil? What are you doing down here?"

Their eyes flashed toward the alley—Twelfth Prince Brennus stood there alone, an enormous dusty tome tucked under one of his shadowy arms and a look of unmistakable suspicion in his eyes. Soleil considered the time of day and cursed silently to herself—Brennus had likely just finished his lecture at the Shadow Mage's College, and his route home after these lessons typically brought him near the veserab stables.

Hadrhune was the first to offer the youngest prince a bow of obeisance, a gesture that Soleil hastened to mimic at once. "We were just clearing up an argument, Prince Brennus, and allow me to apologize most sincerely for disturbing you with it."

"You are forgiven," said Brennus in a kindly voice, drawing slowly nearer. "Why are you arguing in such a public locale?"

Soleil was looking uneasy, but Hadrhune was quick to let Brennus in on the truth. "Soleil was about to leave the city, Prince Brennus, until I thwarted her."

"Leapt out of the shadows like a lurking wraith, more like," snapped Soleil, turning her haunting yellow eyes upon the seneschal in a manner that suggested he would die a most undignified death if he uttered one more syllable. "While it is true that I intended to depart the city, Prince, I can assure you that I do not intend to leave without good reason. I meant only to retrieve Captain Leevoth's sword before it is claimed by some undeserving creature, or becomes lost for all time."

Brennus paused at the mountebank's side; the suspicion had fled his eyes now, replaced by something like understanding and interest. "Oh? You are going to the Frostfell?"

"Yes… why?" asked Soleil nervously, and the prince laughed.

"There is no need to be uneasy—I have recently taken an interest in the region and considered making a journey there myself in the near future." Brennus smiled almost guiltily; Soleil's insides unclenched themselves a little. "I have been conducting a great deal of study and research on the Spine of the World regions over the last few tendays and have reason to believe that the Frostfell Manor contains several of the lost scrolls of Netheril. I was actually intending to speak with the Most High One tonight at court and request his permission to lead a small expedition to the area."

"Then perhaps I could accompany you!" exclaimed Soleil delightedly, taking one of the Twelfth Prince's hands excitedly in both of her own, and Hadrhune's eyes widened in horror at her unsophisticated behavior as Brennus laughed.

"I don't see why not," the loremaster mused, the ghost of laughter still on his tongue as he spoke. "But we should go now, while the light of the sun still reaches Faerun. Otherwise, the Most High will be quite displeased."

"Now?" Soleil echoed incredulously. "Without permission-?"

"You forget," Brennus reminded, "that there are a handful of things the Most High One makes exceptions for—and one of them is the scrolls of ancient Netheril. The history and culture of our people is of great interest to Him, and if going to the Frostfell now means securing another lost piece of our heritage, the Most High will be prepared to not only overlook our disobedience, but reward us for our actions. If our venture is successful—and I have little doubt that it will be—the Most High will be far from disappointed with you, Soleil." Brennus's bronze eyes shifted to regard Hadrhune, who seemed to be stewing in quiet disapproval. "What say you, Hadrhune? Will you go?"

The seneschal's eyes flitted briefly to Soleil's hands,which still held one of Brennus's clasped in her own, before he answered almost condescendingly, "I suppose so, Prince Brennus, thank you."

"Splendid," chuckled Brennus, and ignoring the envious look on Hadrhune's face the loremaster tightened his grip on Soleil's hands and melted into the Plane of Shadow to begin the shadow walk that would take them to Frostfell Manor.

* * *

_Phendrana_, murmured the whisper of Alax's voice in the doppelganger's mind. _Wait_.

The mindmaster Phendrana paused mid-stride, one hand clutching the knob of the door he had been about to open, and he felt the others behind him tense upon seeing his hesitation. With his other hand he gestured for the rest of the company to pause as he retreated within himself. _What is it?_

The rest of the day aboard the _Water Falcon_ had passed without incident, and they had all been very thankful when at last the mercenary vessel had made port back in Baldur's Gate. They had joined Duke Eltan for their evening meal and passed on their brief travel plans to him, pleased when he had released them from duty long enough to journey to the Frostfell and back via the enchanted stone Aidan had received from the master of the manor. The sun was just setting in the west when they huddled close to one another on the beach of the Sword Coast, talking in excited whispers about their brief sojourn, and with light hearts they had passed through the portal contained within the stone. Now here they were, and despite his companion's palpable excitement Phendrana couldn't help but feel uneasy.

_There are people on the other side of this door_, Ristel informed him, sounding no less irate than usual, but perceptive Phendrana did not miss the undercurrent of nervousness that rippled beneath the agitation. _Can you not sense them?_

Phendrana stretched out his considerable influence to probe the chamber on the other side of the door and instantly felt what his friends were concerned about. There seemed to be four other presences in all—one of them he recognized immediately as the snow elf mage who had transported them all to Baldur's Gate earlier in the year, but the other three he did not recognize at all. Though their energies were completely different those three irked him in some way, and only after half a minute's uninterrupted contemplation he discovered what it was that bothered him so—they carried a gross, almost unnatural power about them, in almost the same manner that Daermond had in the months Phendrana had worked to oppose him.

It took him only a minute or so to discern all of this information, and then Zerena spoke to him: _They are speaking to one another—you should relay their conversation to the others_.

_Of course_, the doppelganger agreed, and in a low whisper he told the company what was happening not so far away…

* * *

"If you are not prepared to tell me where the sword is," snapped Soleil in a foul temper, "I will strike you down and tear apart this manor in search of it."

She and Twelfth Prince Brennus had emerged from their shadow walk into the chamber where Leevoth had been struck down to find a female snow elf bustling about the room; in the seconds before Hadrhune had appeared Soleil was able to determine one thing that sent her into a bit of a frenzy: Leevoth's body had at last dissolved into nothingness, and there was nothing at all that remained to suggest he had ever been there at all.

Including Ironfang, the Shadovar captain's prized greatsword, the blade Soleil had specifically left clenched in its master's hand as a kind of last tribute to his memory.

The snow elf—a sorceress of some kind, judging by her dress—looked distinctly uncomfortable when she said, "I relocated it to the museum in the chamber below. It has not been tampered with in any way—I do not understand your loathsome magic."

This last remark was muttered in an undertone, but Soleil's keen ears did not miss it; she stalked one step forward in a rage, one hand upon the falchion belted to her left hip, and might have struck at the mage were it not for the harsh reprimand that stopped her in her tracks.

"Soleil," said Brennus softly, his genial tone still somehow containing a warning, and though she wanted nothing more than to protest the mountebank retreated at once.

"I warn you," growled Soleil in an unattractive, guttural voice, "if you have deceived us… if the sword has been altered in any way, shape, or form—"

"There is no need to make threats, Soleil," chuckled Brennus, lingering in a corner of the chamber where the rays of bitter sunshine streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows could not touch. "We will investigate this museum to see if her claims hold true. If they do not…."

The Twelfth Prince let the sentence hang unfinished in the air, his ceremonial fangs bared in a menacing fashion, and the snow elf's delicate shoulders trembled.

"Then let us go," growled Hadrhune, who had taken to pacing the plush carpet restlessly; every so often Brennus's eyes flitted to regard him in a most disapproving way. "Why do we waste our time here with this mage?"

"Because there is a group of travelers on the other side of that door," Brennus told his companions idly, in a tone that suggested he was hardly concerned with this discovery, "who have been eavesdropping on us almost from the moment we arrived, and I am considering how best to deal with them."

On the other side of the door, listening intently to Phendrana's recitation, the mercenary company drew away from the door in surprise and anxiety. All six of Phendrana's friends—and, of course, the doppelganger himself—sensed the three unknown presences moving nearer to the exit…closer to the eavesdropping mercenaries.

"We must flee!" murmured Ivy in a shrill whisper, but Aidan's hand had settled upon her sword already and Aust was shaking his head gravely.

"There is little point in taking flight," sighed Captain Rosalles, his ocean-blue eyes fixed upon Phendrana's. "They are aware of our presence, so it makes no difference whether we stay or run."

_Agreed_, said Vadania, sounding displeased yet resigned. _I sense that even if we attempt to run, they will have little difficulty finding us. It is too late now._

Phendrana danced back three or four paces, drawing the elven thinblade in his left hand and gesturing for his companions to remain behind him with the other, just as the door crashed open and they found themselves facing three very disparate people.

Soleil stood at the head of the group, brushing several strands of black hair out of her severe, acid yellow eyes and taking in the company gathered a few yards away. Her eyes almost instantly fell upon Aidan, whose eyes narrowed into affronted slits, but settled upon Phendrana half a second later. Hadrhune stood at her left side, barely inches behind her, his darkstaff clenched in one shadow-swathed hand and his amber eyes burning from behind the cowl of his dark hood; Twelfth Prince Brennus was almost level with Soleil at her right side, the needle-point fangs of his smile radiant against his shadowy, ebon-skinned face.

"So," murmured the Twelfth Prince thoughtfully, something like surprise coloring his tone. "Here you are. How considerate of you to save us the trouble of seeking you out, Phendrana."

Two things happened then, both inside the vast recesses of the doppelganger's mind, that frightened Phendrana more than the mere presence of their enemies; a raw shriek tore itself from Kiora's throat and she sprinted headlong toward the chamber of Phendrana's consciousness, seeking control of the body they all shared, and she might have reached it had Alax not shouted a word in a strange tongue and erected a livid red wall in front of her. It was that moment that Ristel gasped in a voice quite unlike his own: _These are foes beyond any of us._

_FIENDS_! cried Kiora, seemingly oblivious of the moment when Vadania and Xanther each dashed forward and threw their arms around her. _DAMNABLE VILLAINS! SCOURGE OF FAERUN! I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU ALL!_

_I do not understand_, said Zerena, her face exasperated, and Kiora's stricken eyes flashed toward the gloaming so suddenly that Zerena flinched away.

_THEM_! she screamed, battling against her two friends with every ounce of her strength. _THEY ARE LIKE LEEVOTH! THEY ARE SHADES!_

The inner turmoil Phendrana was suffering must have shown through onto his face, because Aidan cocked her head intuitively and asked, "Phendrana? Are you alright?"

"Do you know these people?" pressed Aust, his father's sword clenched tightly in his hand and his eyes scouring the four adversaries they now faced.

Phendrana merely raised the thinblade a little higher and lifted his chin defiantly. "No, Aust, I do not. But clearly they have more than a basic knowledge of us. Perhaps they would care to introduce themselves first, and explain why they are here and what precisely it is they want from us?"

"We have no cause or reason to explain our movements to creatures of such common import," drawled Hadrhune impatiently, glancing to Brennus as if for confirmation, and the Twelfth Prince could only shrug his shoulders once and sigh.

"We are in rather a hurry," Brennus admitted idly. "Consider yourselves very fortunate that we do not have the time to deal with you. It is in your best interest to stand aside."

"Our best interest?" echoed Aidan skeptically, Phendrana's outstretched hand the only thing that kept her sword in its scabbard. "I see no reason why we should be concerned for our safety."

"Because if you do not," Brennus finished softly, "we will have no choice but to dispatch you in the name of the Most High."

Every one of Phendrana's companions drew a weapon at these words; their three opponents, the doppelganger noted with a certain measure of interest, did not reciprocate this action – it almost seemed as though they felt it wasn't necessary. Phendrana kept his free hand extended in an attempt to keep his comrades from attacking, but he wondered how much longer they would continue to heed his warning.

"On what grounds?!" Aust roared, and at these words Soleil bristled but was stayed by an upraised hand from Brennus, who was frowning ever so slightly.

"Grounds?" asked the Twelfth Prince, a note of disapproval in his voice. "Surely you know how you have transgressed? Are you not the ones who killed the shade upstairs? Leevoth, senior commander of the Army of Shade?"

Phendrana already knew that the claim against them was true, and did not need Kiora's vehement confirmation as it echoed through his mind. _And I would do it all again if it meant avenging my family!_ He sensed that Aidan was about to step forward and take the blame for the crime – after all, she had been the one to deal the definitive blow, and undoubtedly felt responsible for their current predicament – and so spoke up on behalf of all of them.

"Yes," he told them bravely, "his death came at our hands. Know that we did not mean it as a personal affront to you or your society – Leevoth butchered the family of a dear friend of ours, and we meant only to avenge the deceased with our actions. Surely you can understand that?"

Brennus cupped his chin in one hand, feeling all too keenly the offended gazes of both Soleil and Hadrhune resting upon him, and surveyed the doppelganger with open curiosity. The Twelve Princes of Shade were no strangers to acts of vengeance – several of Brennus's more ambitious brothers considered it their life's work, in fact – and though they often disagreed on matters of both church and state they were allied upon the underlying principle of this particular debate. The loss of any shade was viewed as an unforgivable crime in Thultanthar, and Most High Telamont supported his son's rights to swift and merciless retribution. So it was with these thoughts in mind that Brennus said, "Know that the desire to exact revenge upon those who have wronged you is a concept not lost on me – on the contrary I commend you for defeating Leevoth, who was no novice to battle. Unfortunately, the Twelve Princes of Shade do not abide the loss of any shade – even one who may have deserved the fate he met." The Twelfth Prince's bronze eyes glittered somewhat cruelly when he finished, "Were I not in such a hurry I would perhaps kill you myself, however under the circumstances I simply do not have time. Not to mention that your intentions seem valorous enough… I will leave you with a warning."

He beckoned to Hadrhune with a wave of one hand before glancing sidelong at Soleil and nodding once; the mountebank at last drew her falchion with a single well-practiced movement, the flat of the deadly blade reflecting the cold light of the sun that filtered in through the thick icy walls. Phendrana tensed himself for the attack that he was certain would follow, but he had forgotten Ristel's earlier warning that their foes were far beyond them and had no chance to react to what happened next.

The mountebank rubbed her thumb once over a jet band set with dark sapphires that adorned her right index finger, and she vanished seemingly into thin air; Phendrana opened his mouth to call out a warning, but before the first word had even formed upon his lips Soleil had reappeared in front of Aust, far too near for the half elf to defend himself. She clapped her left hand down upon his shoulder and tugged him toward her as she thrust her falchion forward, and the others had no choice but to watch helplessly as with a single stroke the mountebank impaled their dear friend on the end of her blade.

Brennus moved to stand level with Phendrana then, seemingly unconcerned by the doppelganger's horrified expression, and murmured in a dark undertone, "Never again cross the Twelve Princes of Shade, Phendrana. We will be watching to see just how closely to heart you hold my words." Then over his shoulder he barked, "Soleil, that's enough. They have learned their lesson. Let us be off."

"Yes, Prince Brennus." The mountebank obediently withdrew her falchion from Aust's chest, unsympathetic as the half elf toppled limply back into the arms of his friends, and without sparing a glance for any of them she trotted off down the stairs after the two shades.

Ivy was hard at work over Aust with a healing potion by the time Phendrana was able to tear his eyes away from the backs of their adversaries, but the half elf's face was still growing deathly pale. Rosalles and Aidan each had an arm around Aust, and everyone regarded Phendrana with expressions of blatant desperation; from somewhere deep within himself Phendrana felt one of his deceased friends take control of his motor functions and his arm thrust out, conjuring a portal only a few feet away from where they all huddled together.

"How did you…?" Rosalles breathed incredulously, but Phendrana had long since learned not to question those who shared his mind.

"No! There is no time!" the doppelganger cried, even as Aust's wounds were beginning to knit themselves slowly back together. "We are not safe here. I know not where this portal leads, but there is a reason it is here! We must go, and quickly!"

"If they come back…" Ivy agreed tentatively, and Rosalles and Aidan exchanged a skeptical glance.

"By the Gods," Aust finally gasped, bloody spittle upon his lips as he spoke, "let's get the hell out of here! I don't fancy another hole in my chest!"

So Phendrana gestured hurriedly to Ivy, who nodded once and blindly led the way; he ushered Aidan and Rosalles, still supporting a partially-coherent Aust between them, through next, and with a last glance down the hallway to ensure that any dangerous parties wouldn't be able to follow he hurled himself headlong after them.


	3. Three - Wandering, Aimlessly Wandering

Three: Wandering, Aimlessly Wandering

The realization that their company had somehow stumbled blindly into the Border Forest excited many emotions in Phendrana – a fear of the unknown, a concern for the well beings of the others, the unease of the doppelganger's six companions, a morbid curiosity for what lay in store. But the level headed mindmaster wasn't expecting and couldn't justify the intrigue he felt as he gazed upon the shining silver door. The mere sight of it was captivating in itself; the moment the echoes of ethereal whispers wafted into his ears, a myriad of shadowy murmurs that called his name with varying degrees of urgency and despair, Phendrana found himself inexorably enthralled.

Without even a hint of hesitation in his steps the doppelganger padded forward, one hand outstretched toward the door's shimmering surface, protuberant eyes vacant. It wasn't until he had nearly reached it that Rosalles's quavering call accosted him from behind. "No, Phendrana, don't go – something does not feel right."

Phendrana's slender hand rested upon the smooth flat surface of the door, abnormally long fingers pressing against it as if to push it open, and when he spoke it was in a tone as absent as his expression. "I can hear them… they are calling me…"

"I can hear them too," added Aidan, but she seemed neither dreamy nor mystified; she had laid one hand upon her double bladed sword warily and her eyes were fixed upon the door in narrow slits, as though she was suspicious of what she heard.

"This is a cursed place," Aust put in almost angrily, for by now the effects of Ivy's numerous healing potions had revitalized him. "I feel that there is some manner of fell magic at work here. We would do well to turn back."

_Turn back_? Phendrana echoed silently to himself, shaking his head vigorously from side to side. Perhaps under a normal circumstance this suggestion would seem to be sound logic, but now… Phendrana had no desire to consider any alternative to the conclusion he had already drawn. Going through the door was the only sensible thing to do. He simply had to see with his own eyes what waited on the other side.

Gentle probing fingertips pressed upon the glimmering surface until it gave and the door cracked open an inch, the movement so unerringly quiet that it somehow seemed unbearably loud in the mindmaster's strangely silent subconscious.

"Don't," Rosalles insisted through gritted teeth. "It is all wrong…"

"Heed the mercenary, Phendrana," begged Ivy, eyes wide in her cherubic face.

But the oddly familiar voices that called to the doppelganger from beyond the door redoubled their efforts as the door eased open, increasing the volume and fervor of their cries, and in a kind of numb haze Phendrana nudged the door open the rest of the way and took his first step down a brilliant ivory staircase. Aidan followed in earnest, her features no less intense than before, and sharing a torn look Rosalles, Aust, and Ivy all resolved to follow.

There was nothing else in the entire world that existed to Phendrana, only the inconsistent murmurings of entities unseen and the spiraling staircase beneath his feet that was as delicate and luminous as moonbeams. With every step Phendrana felt as though he was being drawn toward something with an almost magnetic allure, drawn downward into a place as ancient as the gods themselves; he wasn't certain of the precise moment when he first experienced the peaceful, almost blissful sensation of his soul detaching itself from his body, but gradually he came to sense rather than feel each individual footfall as he descended ever deeper beneath the earth. The shuffling din of his friends' feet died away, lost to the now nearly deafening silence of the place they were unknowingly searching for; the alabaster stairway blended into a white marble street, the silence transitioned smoothly into a multitude of hushed voices, and Phendrana's soaring spirit brought him safely to the place beyond the silver door.

It was not a place any of them recognized, yet it still imparted the inexplicable feeling of somewhere each of them was intimately familiar with. At once the city – for it was an entire dwelling beneath the vast recesses of the Material Plane – was both nondescript and breathtaking; white marble avenues blended seamlessly into granite towers and obsidian walls, exotic glass-blown windows and eclectic architecture. There was no ceiling, no sky above them, just an endless void of gray fog not dissimilar to the misty veil that cloaked Phendrana's conscious mind; no sun or moon or stars penetrated that obscure mist, but the city seemed possessed of its own radiance and the lack of natural lighting did nothing to diminish the sense of acceptance, of belonging, that each of them felt.

And the people! Never in all his life had Phendrana glimpsed such a diverse population that coexisted so peaceably. Outside one shop the doppelganger glimpsed a minotaur, a fiend, and a trumpet archon all laughing companionably together, three races that Phendrana had never known to habitate in the same place without attacking one another. At the foot of an enormous mother of pearl fountain the mindmaster spied an orc and a sun elf embracing one another like beloved friends, oblivious to the countless droplets of crystalline liquid that showered them from the fountain's gushing stream. A centaur bore a childlike Halfling and a svirfnebli happily down the lane as they clung to its flanks and shouted greetings to other passers-by; a dryad swiftly pecked the cheek of a towering githyanki before dancing gracefully away, and a human female walked hand in hand down the white marble street with a male rakshasa.

It should not have been real, Phendrana knew – yet here, in this miraculous city beyond the silver door, he knew he was truly in the presence of everlasting love, companionship, and contentedness. For a moment Phendrana was certain life could not be any sweeter.

He could not imagine, in that instant of purest bliss, just how wrong he was.

"What is this place?" marveled Ivy, her eyes wide as she took in the unbelievable scenes around them.

Everyone was far too baffled to venture an answer right away; Phendrana's eyes continued to rove the crowds of extraordinary people, no less awed than he was before but now feeling undeniably skeptical of their new surroundings. As beautiful as the city was there was something wrong about it – everything in sight seemed too perfect in some way, and with a start the doppelganger noticed that all the vibrant colors of the Material Plane had melted away, replaced with varying shades of gray. Turning Phendrana looked to Rosalles, mouth open to voice his reservations, only to realize that the mercenary's ocean blue eyes now appeared as a hue of medium dark gray. Even as Phendrana slowly pieced everything he found out of place together into one cohesive hypothesis he came to understand that all the inhabitants were translucent – their bodies seemed solid enough but were vaguely see through at second glance. And suddenly, Phendrana understood.

"Manifest," murmured the doppelganger, his voice thick with emotion. "The City of the Remaining."

"The Remaining…?" Aust repeated incomprehensibly, his eyes fixed on Phendrana's back, but the mindmaster was clearly not listening.

"The city built around the entrance to the Plane of the Afterlife," Rosalles told them softly, his head bowed in melancholy and his shoulders slumped. "Wherein dwell the souls of the deceased ones who are not yet ready to begin their new lives in the Land of the Dead."

Phendrana managed to shuffle forward three steps before he stumbled and nearly fell, a dry sob upon his lips, and the others followed his stricken gaze down the lane where, from the shadows of a nearby alleyway, several figures were stirring…

"They have brought us here," he murmured, mystified, "to see me."

The first translucent figure was faintly luminous and did not walk upon the ground as the other citizens of Manifest did – she fluttered like an angel with wings of ebony velvet, her golden hair floating like a delicate halo around her exotic, strikingly beautiful face. She smiled radiantly with eyes that were pearly gray with the magic of Manifest, but Phendrana would have known those eyes in an endless sea of other inconsequential gazes; she alighted in front of the disbelieving mindmaster, her landing muted by her graceful ballerina's slippers, her arms outstretched –

- And with silent tears streaming from his eyes Phendrana collapsed to his knees, bringing himself to the childlike girl's level, and flung himself into the welcoming arms of the ghost of Zerena Desini, fully expecting to feel nothing at all when his living flesh met her spectral body and sobbing all the harder when her diminutive alabaster arms encircled him and imparted their comfort and warmth. Overjoyed Phendrana sat back and roved his trembling fingers over the gloaming's shoulders, through her cornsilk hair, along her delicate ears, across her cheeks, laughing with desperate, ecstatic agony at the prospect of being in her company, and Zerena giggled like an innocent pixie and wrapped her considerable wingspan around him.

"Decades after you have breathed your last breath, there is still nothing I wouldn't have done just to hold you in my arms," murmured Phendrana, his lips at Zerena's wispy hair and the scent of night-blooming jasmine nearly overwhelming him. "And now that I have finally found you, I find that everything I had to give is a poor trade in comparison to the priceless gift that is being near you."

One of Zerena's slender hands brushed the doppelganger's lingering tears away – this action only served to stir further drops from Phendrana's eyes, so she drifted closer still and pressed her satin lips to his, albeit briefly. He gazed back at her, star-struck, trembling like a leaf clinging to a withering tree.

"You do me a great honor," she told him, her smile wide and longing, her hand lingering upon his dampened cheek. "As you have been since the beginning, when you scarcely knew my name. These are kindnesses I do not deserve and could never repay."

"I love you," Phendrana growled desperately through teeth clenched in remorse, his tear-filled eyes intense and pleading. "Without cause or reason, concern or care, hope or abandon, as I always have and as I will forever. Why should it matter what your name is? I knew yours before I knew my own."

Zerena looked as though she would be crying too, if she were physically capable of doing so; instead she got gracefully to her feet and pulled Phendrana along with her, her smile as genuine and angelic as it had been before. "And I love you. But I cannot keep you to myself – I am not the only one here who so cares for you."

She waved one hand behind her, indicating five other semi-transparent figures now moving away from the alleyway's pale gray shadows, and at the sight of them Phendrana's knees shook so violently that only Zerena's wing braced against his lower back kept him from falling.

The others could only stand behind this unexpected reunion, rocked to their cores with wonder, as Phendrana was confronted with the souls of the six heroic beings to whom he had devoted his bittersweet existence, could only watch with disbelieving stares as the doppelganger took Xanther's hand, kissed Kiora's cheek, embraced Alax and Ristel like brothers, sobbed his eyes dry into Vadania's shoulder…. Even though no words were spoken at first an entire conversation took place in the way they all laughed, despaired, reminisced, and triumphed together. For a moment nothing else existed in the whole world besides those seven kindred spirits, and anyone who knew the lonely and cursed existence of Phendrana the mindmaster would have sworn they were carried to heaven upon the single blissful smile that graced his lips, perhaps the only true smile he had ever worn.

Yet as touching as it was to see Phendrana so happy, it tortured Alvaro Rosalles's kind heart when he considered just how devastated Phendrana would be when this meeting was over.

Sure enough, not long after the tear-filled reunion, Alax placed one hand upon the taller doppelganger's shoulder and pushed him back to arm's length. His expression was somehow happy and pained at once. "We waited a very long time to make your acquaintance, Phendrana. I must admit that I thought you would lose your fight with Daermond, and that we would meet you in Manifest."

Phendrana winced. Daermond Nothar, a rakshasa visionary with aspirations of revolutionizing the pirate lifestyle, had nearly bested Phendrana on several occasions in the not-so-distant past – the most recent of which had nearly cost the mindmaster his life in exchange for Rosalles's. "Had it not been for you six, I would have most certainly perished. I owe you much."

"You owe us nothing," Kiora corrected, in a voice that was both firm and reassuring. "You carried on our endeavors long after we had no strength to lend you, and always you were successful. You endured unthinkable pains in your quest to uphold our memories."

"You have never once taken a moment for yourself," Vadania put in. "If anything, we owe you a great debt."

Phendrana studied each of their faces closely, a pang of trepidation shooting through his nerves at the expressions of pleasure mixed with guilt he found, before he choked out, "You do not intend to stay."

Ristel moved to Phendrana's side and wrapped one arm around the doppelganger's slim waist, his face filled with an uncharacteristic optimism. "We might have departed years ago, when Kiora finally joined us, but we agreed that dwelling for a short time in Manifest was a small price to pay since we all truly wanted to meet you. We have no unfinished business to complete – you, in your unbelievable selflessness, saw our every task through to the end. All that remained was the pleasure of knowing you personally, and now we have done that too."

"Our heartfelt thanks is, regrettably, all we can offer you for what you have done," said Xanther with a shy smile. "But eight years is not so long a time to wait for that. You will never know what your services mean to us. We would have waited millennia."

It was difficult to watch as Phendrana lurched forward to grasp at their hands, tears coursing anew from his panic-stricken eyes, and though all six of the translucent apparitions clung to him reassuringly their faces left no doubt that they had every intention of departing Manifest. "But you cannot leave!" cried the mindmaster, grabbing fistfuls of Alax's spellcaster's robes and shaking them miserably. "All these years I have spent blindly searching, and I have only just found you! How can you leave me now, when we are finally together?"

"There are many reasons," murmured Kiora soothingly, stroking one hand sympathetically up and down his back as Alax held Phendrana close. "One is that we recognize our lives have truly ended, and that it is time for us to enter the afterlife. We have all suffered – now it is time for us to find peace."

"Then I will come with you!" shrieked Phendrana desperately, his silver eyes wide and quite deranged.

"No, Phendrana." Zerena, her arms wrapped tightly around the doppelganger's legs, pulled back just enough to fix him with a stern but piteous glare. "Where we are bound now, you cannot possibly follow. One day you will come to that place yourself, when you are truly ready, and we will rush to meet you with open arms."

Vadania, Xanther, Ristel and Alax were attempting to extricate themselves from Phendrana's grasping arms now – he was swiping at their slowly retreating forms with abandon, his eyes now frighteningly lifeless. "No… please, no, you can't leave me! Please don't leave me behind! I cannot live without you!"

"We will never really leave you," Ristel told Phendrana with a little derisive chuckle. "You must continue to be strong, and share your courage and generosity of spirit with the rest of this wide world."

"It does not do to dwell on things you cannot change, dearest Phendrana," cooed Zerena lovingly, tracing her tiny hand so lightly over the mindmaster's lips that Phendrana wasn't at all certain they had touched at all, "and forget how to live."

As she said this she took one of Phendrana's hands in both of her own and placed it into the plush and inviting velvet-gloved hand of Captain Alvaro Rosalles, who tightened his grip on it in earnest and nodded once to Zerena, a wordless vow that he would take care of the doppelganger. The other five specters were drifting soundlessly back down the lightless alley, waving and blowing kisses; Zerena released Phendrana and fluttered back several paces, and though the doppelganger lurched forward to follow he was held fast by Rosalles's hand.

"I am begging you," Phendrana choked out in his most despairing voice, his great silvery eyes blurred with tears. "With every fiber of my being, I implore you… do not go."

"This is merely a crossroad, Phendrana," the angelic gloaming told him dreamily. "The next time our paths intersect, we will be forever by your side."

And although Phendrana screamed his throat raw the six continued to withdraw into the shadows… they were fading away… they were gone.

* * *

Every word, every touch, every unspoken insinuation caught Soleil Chemaut's interest as she watched Phendrana's interactions with his six deceased predecessors through the world window in the Palace Most High. When at last the devastated mindmaster fell to pieces in his lover's arms she closed the window, brooding silently in the umbral murk, unnerved by the way she felt after watching the exchange. It wasn't amusement, or triumph, or even superiority.

It was sympathy.

"What made him do it?" she asked aloud, her voice booming throughout the cavernous chamber despite the soft volume she used. "All these years that he pretended to be them when he might have been living his own life, taking their burdens as his own, shouldering their grievances without a word of complaint… and for what? A moment's bliss, a few words of gratitude, and a feeling of loss that I doubt even the strongest of men could shake. So why did he do it all those years?"

A single shadow peeled itself away from the thickening veil of darkness around the world window and solidified into a figure easily three heads taller than Soleil, and padding forward First Prince Escanor asked, "Why have you served the Most High all these years?"

The mountebank leaned back against the First Prince, the top of her head barely reaching his diaphragm. "There are many reasons. The sense of pride it gives me, the satisfaction of pleasing the Most High, the honor of serving the Twelve Princes of Shade, the feeling of accomplishment I experience when I battle alongside the last warriors of the Netherese Imperium… Power, glory, order, and respect."

Escanor's strong hands, twice the size of her own, rested upon her diminutive shoulders and issued a gentle squeeze; he leaned closer to her ear and pitched his voice lower when he continued, "And have you always served the Most High for these reasons?"

Soleil lowered her head, ashamed, and said nothing.

"It is precisely for those same reasons that Phendrana has devoted his life to finishing the tragic lives of others," Escanor explained, steering the young half-elf away from the darkened world window. "Not for all the justifications you just named – for the ones you did not. Often our motivations are unclear to those that surround us, and sometimes what drives us is unknown even to ourselves. It is difficult to understand, perhaps, but such is the way of things."

Soleil shrank out of Escanor's grasp and whirled to face him, a sly smile already in place as she looked upon him for the first time in many weeks. "Why does the First Prince of the City of Shade waste his time bandying words with a non-Shadovar?"

"Even I do not know some things," admitted the First Prince, flashing his ceremonial fangs as he returned the mischievous grin. "While we ponder such mysteries, allow me to escort you back to Villa Cloveri. The hour is late."

They departed the Palace Most High in silence and wended down the grand avenue to the Circle, the pavilion beneath the Palace Most High where the fourteen members of the Shadow Court made their homes, Soleil lost in private musings and Escanor respectfully quiet at her side. When they reached Villa Cloveri, the most nondescript of the abodes in the pavilion but still utterly spectacular, the First Prince bid the mountebank good evening and melted back into the shadows to return to the grandest castle in the square, Villa Dusari. Alone in her private quarters Soleil undressed and slipped into her sleeping shift but did not retire, moving instead to the balcony and gazing up toward the Palace Most High in contemplation and reverence.

She was still wondering – what compelled a person to sacrifice everything they possessed – more than that, all that made them a _person_ – all for the sake of another? Clearly her motivations were very different than Phendrana's, but if one neglected to consider the circumstances and other unimportant details, weren't they somehow similar? They had both willingly surrendered to what each considered a higher power, they both conducted their lives based on the thoughts and desires of others… were they really so different?

Soleil retreated from the balcony, but the light filtering from Villa Dusari's highest window suggested she wasn't the only one still awake.

* * *

Escanor watched Soleil turn her back on the balcony and move gracefully through the gently-swaying curtains into her private chambers, as always stunned by her beauty and awed by her strength. With a tiny sigh of longing he turned back to face his own quarters, considering the events that awaited him tomorrow and supposing he would be best prepared for them by resting well, and found that he wasn't surprised to see his youngest brother had taken up a seat at his desk and was glancing over the initial report of the phaerimm force occupying Shadowdale.

"I meant to present my findings in full tomorrow morning, for the collective consideration of the Council," Escanor protested, unclasping his black glass breastplate as he went, and Twelfth Prince Brennus peeked up at him over the top of one sheaf of parchment.

"Of course you did," Brennus answered idly, thumbing through the half-formed musings and often unintuitive fragments of explanations that his oldest brother had penned. "I am simply here to restore your ramblings to order. Have you given this report any consideration? Your observations hardly make sense. Did you truly mean to present this drivel to the Most High?"

Escanor smiled softly at Brennus's lighthearted jests, as always secretly grateful that he and his youngest brother were on such amicable terms. Of all the Most High's sons, Brennus was easily the most cerebral; his intellect was renowned throughout the City of Shade, and the High Prince's kin often sought his ear for advice regarding their affairs. Knowing there was little sense in protesting – for Brennus's assessment of Escanor's report possessed a great deal of truth – the First Prince passed the loremaster a few pages of unwritten parchment and his best quill as he swept by the desk, and Brennus snickered softly to himself and rummaged about Escanor's personal effects until he managed to scrounge up a half-full inkwell. "If it pleases you, by all means. But the hour is late… do you not wish to retire? We will need your logical voice and your soft-spoken opinions in the session tomorrow, and I daresay I will need your vote. My stance on this matter may be met with approval just as surely as it may be met with disdain."

Brennus waved a hand negligently and dipped the tip of the quill into the inkwell, tapping off an excess droplet or two before setting the tip to the parchment and translating the First Prince's half-formed thoughts into more cohesive, elegant statements. "Nonsense, brother – it is obvious that here is where I am needed. And besides, you already have my vote – name one such matter on which I cast my lot against you, and I will be shocked indeed!"

"The phaerimm occupy Shadowdale in great numbers, by my estimate - though by now you have already deduced as much, and require no further explanation from me." Escanor seated himself across the desk from his youngest brother and watched the loremaster's graceful scrawl gradually fill the first sheaf of parchment before adding at length, "I spoke with the Most High briefly this afternoon, barely an hour after your return… he mentioned that you had been to the Frostfell, and that you encountered the doppelganger Phendrana and his companions there."

Brennus dipped the tip of the quill into the inkwell briefly before taking up the second sheaf of parchment, hardly glancing up as he did so. "I did."

"Well?" Escanor prodded. "How did you find them?"

The sound of the quill scratching away at the parchment filled the room for a minute or two, presumably as the loremaster collected his thoughts, and just when Escanor was certain his youngest brother wouldn't gratify his curiosity with an answer Brennus spoke. "They are a curious group indeed – but then, it isn't often that one encounters a tiefling, a halfling, a seafaring mercenary of no small renown, a half elf drunkard, and a schizophrenic doppelganger traveling together." He paused to review something he had written, his brow creased in concentration. "They offered us little resistance, though that came as no surprise to me for they surely did not expect to come upon us in their travels. They confessed to Leevoth's murder, though they would have been foolish to deny it – as you know the Most High had already determined them to be the guilty party, and was prepared to pay them back in kind for their crimes in due time."

"I do believe you are beating around the bush," Escanor joked, and Brennus chuckled softly to himself as he replaced the quill in the inkwell and fixed his oldest brother with a serious expression.

"Very well – if you must know, I found the doppelganger in particular to be terribly fascinating. I have dabbled in the arts of both the psionist and the mindspy in my studies of mental magic, and so I was able to connect to his mind." Brennus's gaze was vacant as he recalled. "He possesses mental defenses the likes of which I have never known, so I learned very little about him, but in the brief moments I was able to glimpse his mind I was awed by what I found there. No less than six other consciousnesses completely separate from Phendrana's house themselves within the doppelganger's mind, and he seems possessed of the ability to keep all of their thoughts and opinions separate from one another, as well as from his own. I am of the opinion that the Most High is justified in his interest in Phendrana."

"I see," Escanor replied, mulling over the loremaster's account of the situation and the day's events, and as Brennus took up his quill again Escanor added, "And now, let us get to the crux of your visit. I doubt you have sought me out to share your thoughts on this matter. Tell me why you have really come."

The corner of Brennus's mouth twitched upward into the ghost of a smile that he had to work to hide. "To provide this service to you, out of the goodness of my heart? To seek the pleasure of your company?"

"I very much doubt either of those is true," Escanor said wryly, and Brennus laughed over his partially-finished work before fixing his oldest brother with a look that was decidedly more serious.

"While both are true, I confess neither is my primary motivation." The Twelfth Prince shifted uncomfortably in his seat, as though on the verge of delving into a topic of conversation that unsettled him. "I meant to use the world window myself not long ago, but found it already… occupied."

"Ah," breathed Escanor, sitting back and stroking his chin thoughtfully with one hand. "Surely you spied Soleil and I there together. We have indulged ourselves with this same conversation many a time in the past, Brennus, and I for one see little point in revisiting it. Soleil's duty binds her to me in a strictly businesslike way – I daresay she is all but oblivious to my feelings, and even if by some sheer coincidence she felt the same… Well, you have only to consider her ancestry to know how the Most High would respond to my interest in her."

Brennus smiled back at the First Prince, albeit a little sadly. There was logic in Escanor's words that couldn't be denied – while it was obvious that Soleil was rather more fond of Escanor than many of the High Prince's other sons, she had never exhibited any behavior that might hint at more personal desires. She had been careful not to do so since the very beginning – her loyalty to the Twelve Princes of Shade was strong, but her loyalty to the High Prince was unshakeable. Escanor had been enamored of Soleil for the past many months now, and though Brennus had been skeptical of his brother's intentions in the beginning he now found that he truly sympathized for Escanor's predicament and was often the ear turned the First Prince's direction when Escanor needed advice on the matter. Of the Most High's progeny Brennus had always been the most emotionally grounded; he was the first to acknowledge his personal feelings on any issue and had the most difficult time remaining emotionally detached when need called for such an approach. For his part, Escanor rather appreciated this quality about Brennus; it made him approachable and kind, two characteristics rarely found within the boundaries of Thultanthar. As for Escanor's offhand comment regarding Soleil's lineage, Brennus knew the meaning without having to ask – the Twelve Princes of Shade, the carriers of High Prince Telamont's lofty legacy, were charged with carrying on the proud bloodlines of the pure-blooded Netherese archwizards from which they were descended. Soleil was neither of Netherese or Shadovar descent, but descended from both the elves of Neverwinter and the common folk of Waterdeep.

Nevertheless, Brennus felt compelled to be comforting. "It does not do well to assume. Once not so long ago the question of Soleil's mortality was a matter of debate within the Shadow Council, despite her less-than-desirable lineage. It is possible that the Most High has changed his mind, and that he would view the union between you and Soleil as a welcome blessing."

Escanor shook his head slowly with a rueful little smile. "And that may be, but you are neglecting perhaps the most crucial detail – no such union exists."

"That is not to say that it may not exist in the future," Brennus suggested bracingly, but Escanor raised a hand in a wordless request for the loremaster to stay his words.

"You do me a great kindness by offering your support, but there is little reason for us to discuss this remote possibility." Escanor glanced down at the half-written sheaf of parchment, upon which Brennus's neglected quill had dripped a great blob of ink, and he winked and added, "That, and it seems you are being inattentive to your work."

Brennus glanced down at the parchment, cursed, and set about his work again. Escanor rose from his seat and drifted behind a changing screen, shrugging out of the rest of his armor and wrestling into a pair of roomy trousers and a silk button down before rejoining his brother at the table. By the time he took his seat again, the loremaster had almost wrapped things up; a minute or two later he pushed the parchment into Escanor's hands as he rose, stretching and yawning as he returned the inkwell and quill to their original places.

"Do not misplace that!" Brennus scolded, and Escanor chuckled bemusedly. "Forgive me for saying so, brother, but your strength does not reside in the eloquence of your words."

"I wholeheartedly agree," Escanor chided good-naturedly, and he clapped Brennus companionably upon the shoulder. "You have my thanks, as always, but for tonight I must insist that you retire. This matter will be decided at the dawn gathering of the Shadow Council, and I will need the voice of reason on my side if I hope this edict to pass in my favor."

"I see there is little point arguing with you." Brennus heaved an exaggerated sigh and slid out from beneath his oldest brother's hand, moving at once for the balcony, and together they rested their hands upon the railing and looked out over the grand pavilion of the Circle. "I hope I have been of some comfort to you, brother; it pains me to see you so obviously distressed. I wish only happiness for you, and would ease your emotional burdens if the power to do so rested within my influence. I hope that you find some rest also; do not forget that you have spent several fortnights away from the enclave, and that you are surely greatly fatigued by your endeavors."

Abruptly, Escanor was very tired. "I confess you are right. Good evening, brother."

"Good evening." Brennus nodded once in respect of Escanor's superior station before shadow walking off the balcony of Villa Dusari, and with his keen eyes Escanor glimpsed the following moment when the Twelfth Prince appeared upon the balcony of his own villa before retreating into his private chambers to find rest. Exhausted with the day's events and heavily anticipating the way that tomorrow's council session would play out Escanor stepped off the balcony for the last time, padding quietly to his bed and falling asleep just moments after his head hit the pillow.


	4. Four - The Ghostwalker

Four: The Ghostwalker

Soleil chose an antique gown spun from Netherese silk the color of deepest crimson stitched with fine golden thread in honor of First Prince Escanor's homecoming at the dawn gathering the next morning; she even went so far as to don the crown and necklace set twin princes Mattick and Vattick had given her for a birthday celebration several years ago, both magnificent copper pieces inlaid with handsome tourmaline stones. The mountebank was just finishing weaving her black hair into an elaborate plait when a slave from the downstairs household entered to inform her that two members of the Shadow Court had come to call for her, so she hurried to the foyer to greet them.

The servants tending to the entry chamber of Villa Cloveri were groveling at the feet of two of the Most High's sons when Soleil descended the black velvet staircase – the tall, robust, silver-eyed Fifth Prince Clariburnus, and the smaller bronze-eyed Twelfth Prince Brennus. The mountebank dipped a lovely sweeping bow when she reached the foyer and Brennus reached out and took her hand, guiding her upright almost at once.

"Well met," said the youngest prince in salutation, placing a polite kiss upon the back of Soleil's pale hand. "You look positively stunning."

"Indeed," agreed Clariburnus, offering the half-elf his arm as the three of them trouped out of Soleil's villa and up the winding avenue toward the Palace Most High; with a dark chuckle he added, "What occasion could possibly merit such formal attire?"

Soleil jerked her chin up proudly, determinedly fighting the blush creeping up her neck. "The same occasion that prompted both you and Prince Brennus to dress just as elegantly," she managed to answer, gesturing first to Clariburnus's finest black glass armor and then to Brennus's finely-woven, deep violet Netherese arcanist's robes. "The long-anticipated return of First Prince Escanor. It is a happy day for Thultanthar – the Most High One's eldest son has returned from a lengthy absence!"

"And why should that interest you so avidly?" snickered Brennus, ivory ceremonial fangs flashing as he laughed. "As far as I am aware you are still Hadrhune's consort, are you not?"

While it was true that High Prince Telamont knew nothing of Soleil's affair with Hadrhune, a select handful of the mountebank's most trusted companions had long since been let in on the secret – including both Brennus and Clariburnus, who were allies and supporters of Hadrhune. At the word "consort", however, Soleil lifted her chin defiantly higher and said stiffly, "I am no one's consort, Prince, and I pray you forgive my tone."

"There is nothing to forgive," said Brennus kindly, his eyes twinkling somewhat proudly down at her. "I would have been disheartened had you said otherwise, truth be told."

"And if Hadrhune ever attempts to label you as such, you must inform us immediately," added Clariburnus in a disapproving undertone, "so that we might re-educate him on the matter. Shade or not, you are the nearest to a daughter the Most High has ever had – and as his sons we would not stand by and allow such mistreatment of you to occur unchecked."

The sincere compliment ignited a deep crimson blush that even Soleil's considerable discipline could not quell, and she sputtered several half-formed words of thanks as they entered the Palace Most High. Rounding the last corner into the Grand Hallway, Soleil, Clariburnus, and Brennus were hailed by Third Prince Lamorak and Hadrhune, who were about to enter the Most High's audience hall.

"Clearly I am not the only one who felt this an occasion worth dressing up for," observed Lamorak with a derisive chuckle, and this was clearly true; the Third Prince, the leader of the Determinist's Guild, was clad in a deep gray set of robes inlaid with iridescent thread that he normally reserved only for the Ceremony of the Ascension. "Well met, brothers, and well met, Soleil. The gown suits you."

Soleil dipped another bow, smoothly releasing Clariburnus's arm as she did so. "You flatter me, Prince Lamorak." She turned her radiant yellow eyes upon Hadrhune, who was looking unmistakably sullen. "Are you not pleased that the First Prince has at last returned, Hadrhune?"

For Hadrhune was still resolutely clothed in his usual black shadow shroud, cloak, and cowl. The seneschal scraped his thumbnail bitterly into the well-worn groove in the darkstaff he held and scowled. "I am pleased because the Most High is pleased. He rejoices at the prince's return, and so do I."

"Oh, very convincing," snarled Lamorak coolly, his pewter eyes narrowing into slits, but Clariburnus wisely led the way into the audience hall before the disagreement could come to blows.

At the head of the long onyx table sat Most High Telamont, arrayed in a full set of intricately shaped black glass armor and wearing a crown of platinum and multicolored gems; he was talking quite animatedly with a remarkably tall, undeniably handsome shade with copper eyes who sat on his immediate right: Escanor, the eldest and most powerful of the High Prince's twelve sons. Though she had entertained a private audience with him the night before at the world window Soleil felt she had scarcely interacted with Escanor, and found that she was rather looking forward to conversing with him. Advancing to her seat at the opposite end of the table she stole glances at him every few steps, but he was deep in discussion with his father and seemed not to notice. There were a few more moments of commotion, during which Vattick complimented Soleil's jewelry with an approving wink, and then the Most High rose to begin the meeting and the chatter died away immediately.

"I convene this dawn session of the Shadow Court," rumbled Telamont. "Let us begin at once.

"Let us first welcome back Prince Escanor, who has been away on a lengthy errand on my personal request. I am pleased to announce he will remain among us at least for the next tenday."

The other members of the Shadow Court offered First Prince Escanor various gestures and words of greeting; Telamont clapped a friendly hand down upon his eldest son's shoulder, Second Prince Rivalen reached across the table to lay one hand respectfully over his brother's, and Mattick and Vattick called to Escanor enthusiastically. Escanor's keen copper-hued gaze swept the table and alighted upon Soleil long enough to flash a warm, fang-filled grin in her direction; the mountebank's answering smile was radiant against her suddenly-flushed cheeks, and Hadrhune scowled and barely managed to jerk his head irritably in the First Prince's direction. When the voices had subsided, Telamont addressed them again.

"Prince Escanor has been away for the last six tendays scouring the ruins in the westernmost regions of Cormanthor for hidden hives of phaerimm." More than one hiss of disapproval – not for Escanor, but for the hated phaerimm – sped around the group at this declaration. "This day, he has a proposal for this council to consider." Telamont finished by motioning for Escanor to rise.

Taller even than his father, First Prince Escanor would have towered three heads over Soleil had they been standing side by side and was easily the largest of all the Tanthul family. He looked far more alert this morning, as though he had had a good night's rest and a square meal or two upon his return, and his travel-worn clothing had been discarded in favor of a dark blue tabard emblazoned with the Netherese coat of arms over a set of black glass armor. Harnessed to his back in a richly-jeweled sheath was a massive darksword, a cherished weapon of the royal family, the Sword of the Dark Father. He regarded them all with keen eyes as he abandoned his seat to speak.

"Most High One and council members, thank you for your sincere words of welcome. It does my heart good to be back in the City of Shade, and back among you. I am pleased to inform you that, after my lengthy foray into Cormanthor, I do have something of note to report: I have located a sizeable group of phaerimm, some twenty strong, dwelling within the ruins of Shadowdale."

Silence, stunned and profound, gripped the whole of the audience hall. Soleil's breath caught in her throat and her hands twisted in her lap; Vattick's eyes were wide with shock, Clariburnus's nostrils had flared angrily, and Hadrhune's amber eyes were simmering with fires of hatred. Escanor allowed the group at large a few moments to absorb the news before he went on.

"The number is an estimate – they are well-entrenched and surprisingly well organized – but I spent a great deal of time studying their group and the area so I feel confident in this assumption. The majority of the phaerimm in this particular hive are of various mature ages, which is one of my primary concerns; as we all know, elder phaerimm are possessed of a stronger and more extensive spell repertoire as well as the ability to paralyze and inject eggs into their victims. It is a dangerous battle we face, but allowing this hive to go about its own devices is more dangerous still. What if they breed? Will they not prove an even greater threat to Thultanthar?"

Soleil's eyes flitted quickly over each of the fourteen faces in the audience hall; many were nodding along, but several others wore various expressions of doubt and skepticism.

"And so," Escanor continued conclusively, "I bring to you this proposal – allow me to assemble an adequate force of warriors and arcanists, and I will eliminate the hive without mercy."

The First Prince claimed his seat again; all eyes turned upon Second Prince Rivalen, who traditionally cast first vote in matters where Escanor offered the issue. Rivalen leaned forward and laced his fingers together in front of him. "I accept this proposal. The phaerimm have long been our most hated enemies – we should not let an opportunity to strike a fatal blow against them to pass us by."

Lamorak nodded his assent. "I also support this choice. The threat such numbers pose to us simply cannot be ignored."

Fourth Prince Aglarel made no move that alluded to the fact that he was listening; his sharp silver eyes glared out from beneath his low-pulled hood. His response was more in-depth than any of them were expecting. "I reject this proposal. At this point in time our primary concern should be the negations with the Lords of Waterdeep. Waterdeep would be a powerful, irreplaceable ally to Shade Enclave – we will want them on our side as we prepare to invade the Heartlands, and I feel that taking on another campaign will do nothing but split our focus."

Clariburnus looked Escanor in the eye when he gave his answer. "I fully support your proposal, brother. We may have other concerns, but the elimination of our most despised adversaries has never been merely a concern – it has been our priority, and our joy."

Aglarel glared poisonous daggers at Clariburnus, who merely continued to smile mirthlessly at Escanor; thankfully Sixth Prince Yder chose that tense moment to offer his opinions. "I stand in agreement with Aglarel. It is the wish of the Most High to unite all of Faerun under his rule, as some of you may have forgotten. This great assimilation cannot begin until we take steps in the direction of conquest."

Telamont's lips twitched into a kind of wicked smile; Seventh Prince Dethud, the Tanthul family's only necromancer, nodded his accord along with Yder. "Leave the phaerimm. Let us bring a stronger, more wrathful judgment down upon them when Thultanthar is mightier than ever before."

"Correct me if I'm wrong," interjected Vattick's twin, Eighth Prince Mattick, "but is Shade not mighty already? You speak of this mission as a centuries-long expedition. Let us tend to the phaerimm now, before they can escape."

"My twin's vote mirrors my own," said Vattick immediately. "The phaerimm first, the rest of the Realms soon after!"

Soleil bit down on her bottom lip to keep from smiling. Mattick and Vattick, nigh inseparable, always cast the same vote in all court affairs. The mountebank chanced a glance at Escanor to find the First Prince looking quite pleased – it was currently six to three in favor of his proposal.

"I'm afraid I must also reject the notion of confronting the phaerimm," admitted Tenth Prince Rapha, though he did not sound the least bit regretful. "We simply do not have the forces to spare for such a bold campaign, Escanor. If we were to convince Waterdeep to lend us their support, it would be our crowning achievement to date."

Eleventh Prince Melegaunt shifted, bringing himself nearer to the table. "In exerting our influence over the Waterdhavians, we manipulate one of the most prominent cities in the Realms into aiding us in capturing the Heartlands. Therefore I must side with Aglarel, Yder, Dethud, and Rapha."

"As do I," murmured Brennus thoughtfully, and when Soleil turned her surprised gaze in his direction he kept his eyes fixed almost guiltily upon the table. "The Heartlands are an untapped resource… an uncivilized area previously unexcavated… imagine the resources we might discover! Perhaps even the lost scrolls of ancient Netheril…"

A crease of irritation had appeared between Prince Escanor's eyebrows, and his eyes had narrowed into coppery slits; Soleil looked quickly in another direction, her mind and her heart racing. In less than two minutes the tables had turned against the First Prince – it was now an even vote, with only three voices left unheard: the Most High, Soleil herself, and – "

"Hadrhune, what say you?" asked Escanor stiffly, his eyes narrowing even further at the smug smile that spread across the seneschal's face as he leaned comfortably back in his chair, and Soleil found she already knew what Hadrhune was about to say.

"At this time, Shade Enclave stands to benefit far more from our conquest of the Heartlands than from the eradication of one score of phaerimm. The choice is clear – we must focus all of our energy on the upcoming negotiations with the Lords of Waterdeep." Hadrhune's amber eyes gleamed with a kind of malicious eagerness. "With all due respect, First Prince, I must also reject your proposal."

A smattering of whispers broke out at these words, some amused and approving, others mutinous; Escanor, constantly at odds with Hadrhune, scowled openly at the superior smirk playing across the seneschal's face.

"Silence," called Most High Telamont over the din of hushed voices, and Soleil swiftly snapped her gaze upon the onyx table as fourteen sets of inquisitive, expectant eyes flitted in her direction. In truth, the mountebank was at a loss for what to do; if she cast her pivotal vote in favor of Prince Escanor's proposal to vanquish the phaerimm, the final ballot would fall to Telamont. If she rejected the idea as Hadrhune had, majority would rule to dismiss the campaign completely. The weight of the powerful shade's glares upon her was almost tangible; she responded impulsively, but with purpose and conviction.

"This is a situation we cannot idly ignore," Soleil spoke up confidently. "We have long since taken it upon ourselves to keep the phaerimm at bay – this is just another such instance. Seventeen hundred years ago, fourteen cities of Netheril fell to the ground when the phaerimm assaulted the mythallar; we owe those deceased archwizards this small act of vengeance. Therefore, I pledge my full support to Prince Escanor. We must fight."

The murmurs intensified, and in response to this Soleil lifted her head almost defiantly; Escanor's grin had returned, and he turned it now in her direction appreciatively. The mountebank smiled back at him, so taken by the sincerity and warmth in his face that she almost didn't notice that half of Telamont's sons were glaring back at her; her eyes did, however, briefly meet Hadrhune's, and the seneschal fixed her with a look that was so full of displeasure that she couldn't bear to keep the eye contact for long. Telamont put an end to all of these reactions simply by taking his feet.

"We stand now at an even vote – seven against seven. Would anyone care to change his or her stance on the matter before we continue?"

The tension pressed in on the council members from all sides; Clariburnus and Aglarel were staring quite forbiddingly at one another, Aglarel's face still mostly hidden beneath his hood. Yder was scowling heavily at Vattick and Mattick, who both met the Sixth Prince's glare with equal animosity, and this time when Soleil glanced up to regard Hadrhune she made certain to harden her face in a perfect imitation of the expression of rage he continued to cast her way. Telamont cracked a smile when no one spoke.

"Very well," purred the Most High. "It falls to me to resolve this dispute. I see no reason why we should pursue one course over another when we clearly have the means to pursue both. Escanor, I am placing you in full command of the operation in Shadowdale, if that is still your wish. It is likely you will miss the preemptive negotiations with the Lords of Waterdeep, however."

"That is a sacrifice I am willing to make, Most High One, and I appreciate your support in this campaign," said Prince Escanor, and he bowed low with a wide smile on his face. "I ask now that we discuss my requests for this mission."

"Name your terms, and I will accommodate them as best I may." Telamont returned to his seat, waving a long, slender, shadowy hand in his eldest son's direction.

To his credit, Escanor took very little time to consider; Soleil knew that he had prepared every single word carefully in advance. "I do not wish to endanger our people by calling upon a task force that is too small – as I have said, all of these phaerimm are at least of the mature adult age - , nor do I wish to place Thultanthar at risk by leading too many of our people out of the enclave. I believe a group of fifty would suffice: soldiers and arcanists, an experienced battle captain to lead the warriors, and a high archwizard to command the arcanists."

"I find that to be a reasonable request," agreed the High Prince, nodding. "It now falls to you to choose your high arcanist, as well as your battle captain, and begin coordinating a plan of attack."

"With all due respect, Most High One," Escanor cut in smoothly with another bow, "I have already determined my choices."

Telamont did not seem altogether surprised by this. "Name them."

"I call upon Twelfth Prince Brennus to lead the arcanists – "

"I accept," interjected Brennus, looking pleased.

" – And Soleil Chemaut to operate as battle captain," finished the First Prince, his copper eyes falling upon the mountebank with something like fierce pride in their depths.

Soleil felt her cheeks heat up, sincerely flattered by Escanor's offer. "You honor me, Prince Escanor, but I am not altogether certain my talents would best serve these designs. Two dozen phaerimm is not a force to trifle with. Would you not be better served in choosing someone with more experience? May I humbly suggest Prince Clariburnus?"

Clariburnus shot her an appreciative smile, but it was short lived; Escanor leaned across the table in her direction, his handsome face dominated by a disarming smile that was not at all diminished by his sharply filed ceremonial fangs. It was clear in his expression that he had anticipated she would respond this way. "Come now – you are too modest. I would not have considered you if I thought on any level that you were not equal to the task. Do you wish to decline?"

Soleil bit down on her bottom lip as she glanced, ashamed, toward Telamont; the Most High was watching her, his platinum eyes calculating, over his folded hands. Was he grinning behind those ebon-skinned fingers? "As I have placed Escanor in charge of this operation, I cannot rightfully keep you here in the enclave if he wishes to take you along. The choice is yours."

The mountebank glanced back to Escanor, whose face was full of triumph. "Then I grant you my services, First Prince, along with a vow that you will not regret this choice."

"Excellent," snickered First Prince Escanor, looking quite pleased; Brennus extended his left arm to pat Soleil companionably upon the shoulder. The mountebank kept her smile carefully fixed upon the table, terrified of meeting Hadrhune's furious gaze.

"Splendid," called Telamont, rising to his feet once more and clapping his hands together once in delight. "That settles it, then. Escanor, Brennus, Soleil – I expect to be met with your completed battle plans when we convene for the twilight gathering this evening: to better prepare, you are excused from our midday council session. The rest of you – we will meet this afternoon to begin discussing the coming negotiations with Waterdeep. For now, let us adjourn."

The Shadow Court rose as one and drifted silently from the audience hall.

* * *

Phendrana managed to stumble through the rest of the day in Manifest at the rear of the group, never speaking to anyone, miserably oblivious to every sympathetic glance shot his way. They retired for the night in a vacant abode, dejected, drifting in and out of restless slumber disturbed not by nightmares but by the lingering memories of lost loved ones. The mindmaster himself did not sleep but stared imperceptibly up at the blank, featureless ceiling, wallowing in the unnatural silence echoing through his mind until despair drove him to his feet and out into Manifest's empty streets.

The sound of a mournful harp's melody whispered into his conscious mind, accompanying a lament sung in a tenor voice in the draconic language. Phendrana knew they meant to comfort him but instead it served only as a reminder that the people he loved were mere figments of his imagination and he pushed them firmly into his mind's subconscious. He could feel Zerena's sympathetic presence questioning his motives – he merely said aloud, "I am not ready to acknowledge you at this time."

They were all silent after that.

The doppelganger's feet and his mind wandered for perhaps an hour, until he came to the abandoned pavilion where the mother of pearl fountain rained clear, cool water into the wide marble basin beneath it. Here Phendrana stopped at last, seating himself on the basin's edge, his eyes fixed upon his own reflection in the pool's distorted surface and marveling at how that imperfect image mirrored the person he truly was: incomplete, incomprehensible, inviting but undeniably hollow. Lost in his sorrow Phendrana reached out, tracing his index finger over the little ripples.

Even in his state of preoccupied self pity Phendrana sensed the instant he was no longer alone, and shifting on the basin's edge he cast a glance over his shoulder. Seeing no one he turned back to the pool – to find someone perched upon the basin's rim only a few feet away.

The man he faced was a dark elf bearing many traits atypical of that arrogant, proud race. His dress was not rich nor cunning but simple cloth pieces in monotone fabrics and colors; his hair was not worn to display his rank or station but cropped in a manner not in keeping with traditional drow ways. If he carried any weapons or any items of distinct magical value they were all hidden well from Phendrana's keen gaze; he observed the doppelganger interestedly yet not overly so with eyes of vivid crimson flecked with gold. At first glance he would easily have been mistaken for an insignificant waif, but the shrewd intelligence with which he surveyed Phendrana suggested otherwise.

"Who are you?" Phendrana managed to murmur uneasily.

The drow merely continued to observe him, no reply forthcoming, with an unbreakable, almost scientific focus. Phendrana had yet to see the man blink.

"Who are you?" repeated the mindmaster, drawing on Alax's presence to ask the question in the language of the dark elves. Perhaps this one did not speak Common?

The drow cocked his head to one side as though considering how best to answer, then tipped his head back to expose his throat. Phendrana's gaze slipped unconsciously to the slender curve of the dark elf's neck and over the bob of his Adam's apple, and he failed to suppress a disbelieving gasp at what he saw – a jagged grayish-white scar that covered most of his throat.

A scar that clearly would have severed his vocal cords.

Nodding, Phendrana raised his hands and flexed his dexterous fingers, scouring his memory for a recall of the intricate hand gestures that constituted the complicated drow sign language. Alax was well-versed in this language but Phendrana was far from fluent and doubted very much he would be able to string a single coherent sentence together. Just as he was about to make his first attempt, though, the drow laid one hand over Phendrana's arm to stop him; when the doppelganger looked up quizzically the drow raised his other hand and tapped one finger to his forehead.

A little embarrassed that he hadn't thought of it first Phendrana reached out to the stranger with his mental influence; the unfamiliar presence of the dark elf did not reflexively reject the mental intrusion as Phendrana expected – it embraced it with longing, much like a lover reaching out for a significant other.

_Who are you?_ inquired Phendrana a third time, now distinctly rattled by the drow's even, penetrating, unblinking gaze.

_For now, perhaps, I will simply be Specter._ The voice that echoed throughout Phendrana's consciousness was a rich, colorful tenor – slightly higher than his own but decidedly lower than Rosalles's jubilant tones. The voice was just as unnerving as everything else about him; the words didn't quite fit together somehow and the inflections were odd, each word emphasized in an uncommon way. _Only an alias, of course, but anonymity is my closest ally… you understand._

Phendrana's skin wasn't crawling, exactly, but he couldn't deny that he was feeling uncomfortable. He drew away a little, sliding along the rim of the basin, but curiosity kept his protuberant silver eyes fixed upon the expectant crimson ones. He couldn't help asking the blunt question: _Are you… alive?_

A chilling laugh was his first answer. _Of course I am – what a peculiar thing to ask. I am just as alive as you are… take that any way you like._

Specter leaned forward, balancing his chin in his hand, gazing at Phendrana with perhaps too much interest. The doppelganger did not shy away from the unwanted attention, preferring instead to continue coolly, _And are you quite… sane?_

_Just as sane as you are, Phendrana… and you may consider that in any manner that suits you also._ Phendrana didn't ask how this peculiar dark elf knew his name; somehow, it made sense for him to know. Specter cocked his head to one side again, much like a bird would. _When you are finished questioning me, I will tell you why I have sought you out._

Phendrana pursed his lips together into a thin line, indicating that he was ready to listen.

_You are feeling more alone than you have ever felt,_ Specter began mournfully, dragging the fingers of one hand absentmindedly through the pool at the base of the fountain. _You are questioning your worth. You are overwhelmed by your grief and do not wish to live anymore._

_You assume much for a man I've known barely five minutes,_ snarled Phendrana.

_And yet you do not deny my assumptions, or attempt to correct me,_ mused the man who called himself Specter, waggling one ebon-skinned finger back and forth in front of the mindmaster's nose in a most annoying way. _Tell me that I am wrong, and I will apologize._

Phendrana glared at Specter, stunned, affronted, agonized, unrepentant, and said nothing.

_Not that I blame you! _Specter reached out and patted the doppelganger's knee; Phendrana shuddered involuntarily. Even through his emerald green vestments he could feel the drow's hand was frozen. _Or that I judge you. I do not believe in such practices… I am only here to tell you that there is another way. You could be one with them, Phendrana – closer than you have ever been. And you would not have to die to discover the way._

The words held an allure that Phendrana couldn't deny, but there was truth to them and that knowledge alone was enough to give him pause. If he could reconnect with his lost friends, the six that meant the world to him, he would be able to remain in the living world with Rosalles and the others. He would not have to live in pain, as he had been for countless years, and he could continue to search for others who needed him and carry out the endeavors they could not. He could have everything – and everyone – he had ever wanted…

Before he had even truly considered the words he had made a decision, and in a voice like a plea he said to Specter, _Show me_.

Specter grinned broadly and nodded in an approving fashion before stretching out his hand, palm forward, toward Phendrana; there he waited, expectant, smiling his oddly serene smile and waiting for Phendrana to come the rest of the way. Phendrana put out his hand and pressed it flat against the drow's, not tentative but desperate, and the whole world turned over.

In an instant every deed he had ever done, every word he had ever said, every move and breath and thought, was replayed before Phendrana's incredulous eyes; for a moment he saw and heard and felt so acutely that both joy and sorrow had the potency to make him weep as nothing had before. And while his life was flying by him he felt those six drawing nearer, so close he could almost see them, and then he experienced a blissful sensation in which their spirits merged with his. He reached out to them, clinging to them urgently with every ounce of strength he possessed, reveling in the potency of his magnified emotions and the way he could feel his loved ones stronger than he ever had… but it was still not enough. Or was it? He forced his disbelieving eyes closed and could have sworn he felt them standing beside him…

His eyes fluttered open and he gazed at Specter wondrously, his faith restored and his purpose renewed, and the drow released his hand somewhat reluctantly; Phendrana snatched his own hand back, his skin now so cold that he felt burned. _What… was that?_

_It was the complete and utter surrender of your soul. In essence, you became ethereal… if only for a moment. In this state it is possible for you to commune more closely with the departed than ever before, because in this state you are most like them._

Phendrana was frozen as he stared at Specter with nearly overwhelming mysticism, and it was clear in his expression that he was all but desperate to make such a connection again. All but forgetting his discomfort with the mute drow's all-too-close proximity he clamped one hand down upon Specter's wrist, doing his best to ignore the fact that the dark elf's wrist was frail and bony, like a corpse. _How can I learn to do this? Can you teach me?_

Specter reached out and patted the back of Phendrana's hand with his free one, drawing a shudder and a repulsed glance from the doppelganger when his frozen fingertips lingered a half-moment too long on Phendrana's flesh. The drow may have laughed then, had he retained the ability to do so. _My, but you are an amusing creature! Alas, I cannot teach you what you wish to know. I can only show you the path to becoming a ghostwalker – you must walk it on your own._

_A ghostwalker?_

_The name given to those who harness anonymity as their single greatest ally_, the curious drow explained, with over-exaggerated reverence. _Those who have all but renounced their ties to the physical world and whose interests remain deeply vested in the spiritual world – or those who harbor an obsession with their deceased loved ones that borders on paranoia._

Phendrana saw little point in arguing the fact. _And when will you show me? Now?_

Specter shook his head remorsefully. _Now? No – now there is nothing I can show you. I will find you when something arises that demands your attention. Until then, I will simply bid you farewell._

He patted the back of the doppelganger's hand once more – a violent shudder coursed down Phendrana's spine, and he resisted the urge to gag – before simply vanishing without another word. Phendrana leapt from his seat on the wide basin of the fountain, casting his gaze all around, but it was no use – the mysterious drow who called himself Specter was long gone.

* * *

Just south of Red Larch, not far from the small hamlet of Goldenfields, was a small cave just off a well-worn footpath that snaked through the gently rolling hills toward the coast, and to Waterdeep. The cave was mostly dark and treacherously built, with sudden crevasses that dropped hundreds of feet down into pits filled with jagged stalagmites, natural perils that had claimed the life of more than one careless traveler over the years. Near the back of the cavern a large grizzly bear had made its den, but the man currently residing within the cave had slaughtered the creature not long after his arrival.

He stood now at the precipice of one such perilous drop, pondering the dreadfully sharp rocks at the bottom with the meager light of his torch and wondering idly if they would do. The drop he had chosen was not the deepest for obvious reasons – namely if his plan failed, he would need ready access to the level upon which he currently stood. And at this point in his life, after all of the perils he had faced and the many near-grisly ends he had inflicted upon himself, he wasn't feeling terribly optimistic.

With these morbid memories fresh in his mind, he tossed the torch negligently behind him and leapt.

The fall was shorter than he might have expected and the impact was devastating; the merciless jagged rock formations tore into his skin like razors and shattered his body with the ease of a treacherous shoreline receiving a boat being tossed upon the open and unforgiving sea. He lay at an odd angle as his vision began to darken, and as the blood blossomed across his vision he dared to feel hopeful that he would be successful in his macabre endeavors at long last.

Then came the familiar burning sensation upon his right earlobe as the simple copper stud flared to life, and he knew he had failed.

He waited impatiently while the unerring magic bound within the small piece of jewelry knitted his many broken bones painstakingly back together, cursing silently to himself as all the while the blood reversed flow and reinhabited the many lacerations he had sustained upon the brutal impact. As the pain slowly subsided his anger only built upon itself, until in the wake of his would-be fatal wounds he was a perfectly healthy man on the verge of losing himself to his inconsolable rage; he took the necessary deep breaths to calm himself, waiting for his sense of rationality to return, and when the white-hot fury swelling within his chest had dulled to a more manageable smolder he squared his shoulders and set to scaling the uneven surface of the nearest wall.

Ishka the Impervious had earned his curious moniker from countless acts of seemingly foolish self-harmful deeds such as the one he had just attempted - though of course he was in no way proud of it, and would much rather have died the first time and saved himself a great deal of trouble. He had come into possession of the burning earring now melded to his very skin shortly after journeying to the Bloodstone Lands; like scores of other adventures and dungeon delvers he had been lured to that region by tantalizing rumors of the existence of magical artifacts of unknown power, forged by the lichdrow Lim Tal'eyve during his brief but devastating reign as Tyrant of the Bloodstone Lands. Of the countless other foolish wayfarers who had plundered the harsh remains of Castle Perilous in their greedy pursuit of these dark trinkets only a handful had actually found anything – and in the years that had passed since, not a day had gone by that Ishka hadn't wished he would have left well enough alone.

The whispers that the lichdrow had been perfecting the key to eternal life had widely been regarded as unfounded rumors, but there were those who wandered the wilds who were willing enough to put their skills to the test in pursuit of a more concrete answer. Ishka had been one of these, and upon championing the many perils that still haunted the ruins of the lichdrow's fortress he had been rewarded for his efforts – though he used the term 'rewarded' with extreme sarcasm and prejudice these days, of course. The copper stud with the abnormally warm ruby embedded in it had been hidden beneath a very well-disguised loose floorboard in Lim Tal'eyve's own private quarters, along with a wealth of other baubles and bits of junk that Ishka had deemed without value after only a little scrutiny. A simple spell had determined that the stud radiated very powerful, very foreign, very old magics the likes of which Ishka had long been searching for, and without much thought for the possible repercussions he had snatched it up into his hand.

He growled aloud then, halfway up the wall, cursing his own foolishness as his blood-caked fingers worked to drag his now fully-regenerated body up from the depths of the pit he had flung himself into only moments before.

The moment his mortal flesh had come into contact with the miniscule artifact he had been struck with the sensation that he had plunged his own hand into a bed of white-hot coals. He had tried to recoil, but it held fast to his skin as though it was a part of him; he had tried to tear it away, but even his considerable strength hadn't succeeded in doing so. It had burned away his comprehension, his reason, all his senses, his consciousness, and even his sense of self, until at last he had blacked out from the agony of it.

In his state of incoherency, the artifact had claimed him for its own.

Upon waking he had found that the stud had attached itself to his earlobe, and had that been the only change he might have been content to leave it be until he had the opportunity and the coin to seek out a master of the arcane to deal with it. Unfortunately that burn, while it had lessened somewhat, had never burned itself out; every waking moment he could still feel it, even now, years later, so intense that he could never escape the sensation that his own flesh was melting from his bones. Over time it had driven him slowly mad, until he was certain he could smell burnt flesh or even hear the sound of his skin roasting with him powerless to stop it. It had granted him strength unmatched but he was not grateful, could not even begin to contain his hatred for the thing – he was stronger now than perhaps any mortal man had ever been, but Hells, the pain - !

Assured of his nigh-godlike strength, he had eventually tried to take his own life – surely such a thing wasn't outside the realm of possibility? But he had underestimated the potential bound within that tiny cursed earring, just as he had underestimated what Lim Tal'eyve was really capable of. Each time he grew too weary of his lot in life he sought new and terrible ways to end it all, and each time he was powerless to stop the constant regenerative properties the earring afforded him. There was no sea deep enough to drown himself in, no blade sharp enough to sever his arteries with the swiftness he required, no grave too deep for him to drag himself out of eventually. Fire would burn, ice would freeze, acid would mutilate, but in the end he would remain just as impervious as before.

Once out of the pit Ishka forced himself to huddle in one corner of the cave, alone save for the wildly-flickering flames clinging stubbornly to his torch. Eventually someone would come, he convinced himself. Eventually he would meet some force strong enough to overcome these devilish enchantments he had cursed himself with, and either that force would end him or he would make it sorry it had ever wasted his time.


	5. Five - Vessel

Five: Vessel

The very next day, First Prince Escanor led a contingent consisting of arcanists and veteran soldiers from the Army of Shade through a portal created by Second Prince Rivalen and into the ruins of Shadowdale. The phaerimm were deeply entrenched, skulking within the vast ruins of the palace in a state of supposed disarray; worse, few of the creatures were dwelling in open areas, for the majority had already taken refuge beneath great slabs of weathered stone. It was difficult to gauge their numbers since they were very cleverly concealed, and engaging them in combat promised to be a tricky affair.

Twelfth Prince Brennus melted out of the shadows near the back of the partially collapsed tower where Escanor and Soleil were surveying the scene; he approached them immediately, his face unmistakably grim. "The count is currently at eighteen," he reported, pausing behind Soleil as the mountebank knelt at the crumbled precipice and squinted into the entrance hall. "But there is no doubt that there are more of them lingering nearby. They are not aware of our presence, but they have favorable cover. How do you wish to proceed?"

The loremaster turned to regard Escanor, who leaned with his arms adamantly folded against the single remaining wall of the tower. Despite his displeasure, he answered right away. "Spread your arcanists out at regular intervals around the castle exterior and work your way in toward the entrance hall – that is where the battle will join in full. Keep a sharp eye, young brother – phaerimm are seldom caught off guard."

Brennus nodded once and ducked back into the darkness at the back of the tower, merging with the shadows there as if he were one himself. Escanor shrugged away from the wall and approached Soleil from behind, drawing the Sword of the Dark Father as he did so. The mountebank's hand rested upon the handle of her magnificent falchion as she glanced up at the First Prince expectantly; he stepped right up to the brink of the eroded tower wall, beckoning to her as he did so.

"Everything is in place?" asked Escanor, though the question was only a formality; Soleil rarely left anything to chance.

Her answer was just as he had predicted. "Yes, Prince Escanor."

"Then it is time for us to go," observed the towering shade, and when Soleil had drawn her weapon they leapt from the ruined tower.

They landed seventy feet below with a cat's grace, mere yards from the nearest reclining phaerimm. The hideous creature was an enormous brute, one of the largest Soleil had ever seen; it scuttled weirdly out of its weathered stone alcove gnashing its deadly teeth furiously, its tail barb aloft held aloft and reflecting the sun's rays as it charged them –

Soleil invoked the powers of one of her magic items, a jet band encrusted with dark sapphires, and stepped through a miniscule rift in space to appear behind their adversary. To its credit, the phaerimm tracked her progress miraculously well and met her almost immediately with a swing of its tail. Even as she sidestepped the stroke Escanor met the phaerimm head on, hacking off one of its frail arms at the elbow and fending away the great maw with his sword's glassy black blade; the overwhelmed phaerimm let out an awful shriek, mustering a spell to unleash upon them, but Soleil leapt nimbly upon the creature's back and plunged her falchion into its tough hide, severing its spine. The phaerimm died with a single violent shudder as Soleil tore her weapon free and slid down to meet up with Escanor.

All throughout the ruined entrance hall battle had joined – the soldiers had engaged separate targets upon seeing Escanor and Soleil leap from the tower – and it was now apparent that Brennus had estimated the pherimm's numbers far too low. Swarms of the aberrations were emerging from every nook and cranny around the hall, howling angrily and splitting the air with their devastating spells. Out in the courtyard Soleil could see a group of robed shades flinging shadow magic but still losing ground – they were cut off from the entrance hall and backing steadily toward a wall.

The empathetic link that connected Soleil to each and every member of the Tanthul family alerted her to sudden danger, and the mountebank squinted into the crowd of arcanists – Brennus was at the front of the line and would be trapped in the courtyard very soon. Without so much as a glance in any other direction the mountebank jaunted through space again, materializing a few feet in front of the line of arcanists.

Soleil arrived just in time to become the new target for a fear spell that was originally intended for Brennus, but it was nearly impossible to shake her will on account of her unfaltering loyalty to Most High Telamont; for a moment wicked thoughts arose in her mind, but she managed to quash them with little effort. She dashed forward when her mind was clear and slashed open the soft underbelly of a rearing phaerimm; the creature howled but did not collapse, so the mountebank leaned into her second stroke and pierced it in the heart.

The other arcanists were digging in now, hurling shadow magic back at the phaerimm in an attempt to gain the courtyard and make the entrance hall, and when Prince Brennus drew level with Soleil he growled, "My sincere thanks."

The mountebank jerked her head to acknowledge him but otherwise did not answer, as there was another phaerimm already charging in to engage her.

Brennus and Soleil leapt away from one another as the phaerimm's horrid tail whipped down toward them; the Twelfth Prince managed to skitter away successfully and pull another thread of shadowstuff from a fold of his arcanist's robes, but the phaerimm's tail arced at the last moment and followed Soleil as she dodged away. The barb crashed against the mountebank's breastplate – it did not penetrate the armor, but the impact shot pail all throughout Soleil's ribcage – and the force of the blow sent her flying to crash against the crumbling eastern wall lining the side of the courtyard. It hurt, but not enough to immobilize her for long, and the moment the phaerimm turned its back on Brennus the loremaster sent a shower of shadow missiles slamming into the thick hide of its back. Soleil assumed that the barrage caused the creature some pain, but unfortunately the added momentum carried it forward – too fast for her to raise her weapon in defense.

The spindly claws of the phaerimm's front right hand tore through the mountebank's unarmored arm and shoulder – not mortal wounds, certainly, but enough to make Soleil grimace in pain and attempt to pull away, which only further opened the wounds. Its tail arced up over its deformed maw, the barb glinting maniacally, a scorpion ready to vanquish its prey –

Two arcanists moved to flank the attacking phaerimm with spells crackling upon the fingertips; the phaerimm's tail lashed out and skewered one before he could complete his spell, but the other succeeded in launching a shadow double of itself in front of Soleil to act as a decoy. Instead of running Soleil hefted her falchion with her uninjured arm and darted under one flailing arm to lop off the phaerimm's thrashing tail. It shrieked an awful, deafening wail and turned to swipe at her – much too slow – and met Prince Brennus instead, who drove his black glass dagger through the phaerimm's gaping maw and slashed out its throat.

"Your arm," pointed out Brennus, and before Soleil could protest the loremaster had conjured a dressing out of shadowsilk and bound it to her arm. She flexed her arm experimentally – the shadowsilk stretched but did not give.

At that moment Soleil's empathetic link to the Tanthul family pierced through her body so desperately that it drove the breath from her lungs, and she turned immediately for the entrance hall.

In time to see one phaerimm knock the darksword from Escanor's hand, and a second of the creatures seize the First Prince with both of its front arms and lift its barbed tail.

She did not think of the consequences of her actions – when it came to Most High Telamont and his sons, Soleil never did - ; she simply invoked the innate powers of the sapphire-encrusted onyx band upon her finger and stole through the rift in space to Escanor's aid. She appeared just a few feet away from the prince, ran two strides to close the distance, and charged into Escanor with her injured arm leading the way. It was enough to jostle Escanor from the phaerimm's grasp and send him sprawling, leaving Soleil to collapse into the aberration's groping hand.

The phaerimm's tail never slowed.

The serrated barb sliced into the mountebank's midsection, and flexing its tail the phaerimm hoisted Soleil into the air; she hung limply, her body wracking with pain, but she glared into the monstrous creature's face and did not scream. Though her extremities were already growing cold she acutely felt the barb spasm near her stomach and begin secreting a paralysis toxin into her bloodstream, and the phaerimm's guttural voice pierced telepathically through her mind. _And who are you that risks her life so foolishly?_

Her teeth chattered uncontrollably as she struggled to speak, loathing for the vile secretion and the doom that would soon follow choking her words. "Soleil… Chemaut."

_And are you a worthy vessel to carry the egg I intended for Escanor, Soleil Chemaut?_

Soleil managed to turn her head to look at Escanor; the copper-eyed shade was staring up at her in horror, his ceremonial fangs bared in fury, his face stretched taut with something like desperation. Before the paralysis toxin numbed her facial muscles she managed to smile down at him in triumph and growl a heartfelt response.

"Of course I am."

The phaerimm issued a raspy sound that may have been a laugh – then its tail spasmed again. And though Soleil's entire body was helplessly numb she still somehow felt the precise moment when the last of the white-hot toxin entered her stomach, bringing with it the phaerimm's living egg. Agony and revulsion washed through her, and Soleil passed out before she hit the ground.

* * *

_Awake, fellow tormented ghostwalker. It is time for your first lesson at my instruction._

At first Phendrana did not stir, certain that the voice he heard was an out-of-place element from his dream or the voice of one of his friends attempting to rouse him. Then he realized that he was not familiar with the strange timbre and its inefficient inflections, and he opened his eyes.

When his eyes had adjusted to the near darkness he found himself almost nose to nose with the mute drow who called himself Specter, and only his monumental self discipline kept him from screaming in surprise. Specter did not move away even a millimeter, but he did raise one hand to waggle his fingers in Phendrana's face in a kind of annoying salutation.

Ristel kindly saved Phendrana the trouble of protesting. _What in the Nine Hells are you about?!_

Specter sat back on his heels and the telepathic giggle of a deranged child floated through the doppelganger's mind. _Be at peace, Ristel – there is a matter elsewhere that craves Phendrana's audience. We shan't be long._

Phendrana did not see the point in asking how Specter knew the deceased water genasi's name; instead he raised himself into a sitting position. All around him, the others were soundly asleep. _What is the matter?_

_All will be explained when we arrive, Phendrana,_ the cryptic drow told him, and as he had on the previous day he extended his hand, palm forward, in Phendrana's direction.

Phendrana's hand seemed drawn to Specter's like a magnet with the precise opposite charge.

When next he opened his eyes it was to an unexpected, startling sight – a monstrous phaerimm striking a glassy black sword from the hand of an unsuspecting shade, and another phaerimm seizing that same shade and exposing its murderous tail.

"What madness is this?!" exclaimed Phendrana, staggering a step forward toward the struggling shade without thinking, but Specter threw out a hand and stopped the doppelganger in his tracks.

_The things that you see may pain you greatly, _murmured the drow's telepathic voice, _but I did not bring you here to interfere. We are here only to observe – I think you will bear witness to a few circumstances that will alter your perspective entirely._

Even as Specter finished the phaerimm's tail show forward – at the same instant that a familiar pale-skinned, black-haired half elf appeared seemingly from nowhere and launched herself into the fray. The force of her momentum displaced the copper eyed shade from the phaerimm's hands – the woman took his place – and a scream of denial tore from Phendrana's throat as the tail barb pierced the abdomen of the woman he now recognized as Soleil Chemaut.

Only the unfaltering pressure of Specter's hand upon his arm kept Phendrana from darting to Soleil's aid, even though he knew his presence could help no one, despite the knowledge that this woman was someone Phendrana named among his enemies.

"Why?!" the mindmaster cried out, frozen in astonishment and disbelief, watching helplessly as the phaerimm pumped an egg into Soleil's limp body. "Why did she - ?!"

_For precisely the same reasons you have devoted your life to the causes of deceased heroes, Phendrana._ Specter's eyes were watching the gruesome spectacle unfold, but he seemed removed from it all somehow. _This is your lesson: when did it become our place to name who is good and who is evil? Can one not be both? Is this deed not as valorous as those you have done?_

This, Phendrana privately admitted, was logic he couldn't deny.

* * *

The phaerimm's tail twitched almost spasmodically; Soleil's limp body slid off the barb and collapsed to the ground like a rag doll, blood pumping out of her stomach with no sign of stopping. She did not move.

When the tail whipped in Escanor's direction he was prepared for it, tucking into a roll and coming up on one knee as he scooped up his fallen sword. Revulsion and sorrow and guilt melted quickly into rage, a rage so consuming that the First Prince of the City of Shade could think of nothing but delivering a gruesome death unto that phaerimm, and when he rose wrathfully to his feet the unfortunate aberration actually started to backpedal. Little did it know that there was no escaping the fury of First Prince Escanor Tanthul.

He rushed forward with a snarl, not at all surprised when his target turned its back on him and attempted to flee. With uncanny precision Escanor heaved his sword and threw it, spinning end over end, and the blade severed the phaerimm's bobbing tail at the base; it howled but inevitably slowed, its life fluids spattering the ground, and the merciless prince was upon the weakened creature immediately. The next stroke of the Sword of the Dark Father lopped off the arm that the phaerimm outstretched in a futile attempt to keep him at bay; the final swing sliced cleanly through the phaerimm's thick carapace and Escanor tore the unfortunate creature open, its innards spilling out when he yanked the blade free.

The gruesome deed completed he turned and sprinted back toward the fallen mountebank, to find her already in Brennus's arms.

"Well done," Brennus congratulated grimly, tracing his hand gently over Soleil's mutilated abdomen and outfitting her with yet another shadowsilk dressing, this one designed to stop her profuse bleeding. "A deserved fate for an unforgiveable crime."

Escanor knelt down, carefully pulling Soleil into his lap as Brennus finished tending the wound; still, the bulge near her stomach was impossible to overlook. Sparks of rage flew from Escanor's eyes as he roared, "Why did you seal the wound?! The egg remains yet inside her!"

Brennus's eyes were wild with panic. "An egg of this size and maturity is beyond my expertise to remove! In trapping it beneath the shadowsilk I was able to preserve her life for a little while – perhaps long enough to transport her back to the enclave. That is where we must take her, with no delay, if we hope for her survival."

The First Prince surveyed the battlefield. The Shadovar had the upper hand, but if he ordered the retreat now many of the phaerimm would escape with their lives. His jaw clenched so tight that he could barely speak. "Is there any who might remove the egg before it hatches, without killing her?"

"Prince Rivalen," was Brennus's immediate, confident answer. "He is our only hope."

"And if the phaerimm are not dispatched here and now?" Though he spoke of their enemies, Escanor's eyes were fixed upon Soleil's ashen face.

"Then they will escape, and likely regroup and grow stronger."

Escanor knew there would be consequences for his decisions, for where the Most High was concerned there always were, but as he took his feet with the mountebank in his arms he was not thinking of the repercussions – he was thinking of the fearless woman he held, her selfless act of sacrifice, and the undeniable knowledge that her life depended upon him now. He glanced swiftly at his younger brother to find Brennus looking similarly torn.

"I am not willing to barter Soleil's life for the lives of a few phaerimm," growled the First Prince. "If that means I must endure the disapproval of the Most High… On my own head be it."

Brennus nodded once and turned to the entrance hall at large. "Retreat! Disengage and fall back to the City of Shade!"

And as all throughout the ruins of the palace the Shadovar were abandoning their battles, Escanor ran for the nearest patch of shadows as though his own life were as stake as Soleil grew cold in his arms.

* * *

Princes Rivalen, Lamorak, Yder, Mattick, Vattick, Rapha, and Melegaunt all remained perfectly silent at the foot of the steps leading to the High Prince's throne; up on the dias Telamont paced to and fro past his vacant throne, head bowed and arms clasped behind him, the part of his face that was visible tightly drawn with concern. Presently another shadow swathed figure stepped out of the curtains of darkness gathering at the edges of the room, moving swiftly to join them, and Hadrhune paused at Melegaunt's side and bowed low.

"What news?" Telamont demanded, his pewter eyes flashing white.

"I apologize, High Prince," began the seneschal, his voice even more grim than usual, "but there is still no word from either Prince Escanor's or Prince Brennus's messengers. As of yet we have no way of knowing how the battle at Shadowdale fares."

Eleventh Prince Melegaunt voiced the thing that was on all their minds, yet they were all too frightened to admit. "Something is wrong."

Telamont whipped back around to face his sons in attendance, his eyes mad with barely contained fury, and threw his arm out toward the lesser two of the seven. "Find them. Get me news of the situation. I don't care what it takes – don't return here until you know!"

Melegaunt and Rapha moved as quickly as dignity would allow for the door of the audience chamber, but the doors banged off their hinges before they had even closed half the distance. Twelfth Prince Brennus hurtled in, clutching a stitch in his side and looking up at his father with pleading, desperate eyes.

"What is this?!" roared the High Prince, but Brennus glanced right past him to Rivalen.

"Brother!" bellowed the loremaster, standing up straight but hardly seeming composed. "I beg of you, you must come with me! The phaerimm egg… I can feel it moving, it is going to hatch, there is no time! Please!"

Despite the suddenness of the situation and the unexpected nature of the youngest prince's arrival Rivalen was in his element, striding out of the line immediately and clapping Brennus on the shoulder as he joined him. "I will see to it at once. Who is it?"

Brennus's answer sent Vattick rocking back a step as though he had been physically struck, and Hadrhune stumbling sideways into Melegaunt. "Soleil."

* * *

Brennus hadn't exaggerated even the slightest bit, something Rivalen instantly understood the moment he set eyes on Soleil Chemaut. The mountebank's skin had taken on an unhealthy gray color that stood out in startling contrast to the stark white, sterile surgical table upon which Escanor had deposited her before departing for a private audience with the Most High. Her lips, usually a luscious rose petal hue, were tinged with an unnatural green that Rivalen knew meant that the egg had reached its final stage of incubation – the time period during which the embryo secreted a deadly numbing substance through the miniscule pores of the outer shell. The secretion was meant to deaden the pain throughout the host body, so that the newborn phaerimm's vessel would not go into shock and die the moment the hatching began.

So that the hatchling aberration could feed on the host's innards, giving it the strength it would need to gnaw its way out of the doomed host.

As the Second Prince prepared for the grisly procedure his two egg extraction assistants stripped the incoherent mountebank of her armor, numerous shadowsilk dressings and undershirt, and when she was naked to the waist Rivalen observed the severity of the damage with a practiced eye. Her abdomen was misshapen and bloated, the injection point seriously inflamed and the skin all around it an acidic yellow-green – a bad sign. It meant that even now the numbing secretion was seeping slowly through Soleil's unsuspecting body like a silent assassin.

There was no time to waste. Rivalen was not fond of Soleil, or of the favor the Most high had bestowed upon her, but the High Prince had charged him with saving the mountebank's life and he would not fail his father.

"Leave me," the Second Prince bade his two assistants, and taking up a black glass scalpel Rivalen made the first incision.

* * *

Escanor's bow of obeisance quickly became a kneel, and before he knew it the First Prince found himself prostrated upon the onyx marble floor at the Most High's feet with his forehead pressed none-too-gently against the cool surface. The displeasure of High Prince Telamont was a force to be reckoned with, and his wrath oftentimes was enough to drive any creature possessed of a lesser will into a position of utter subservience.

And Escanor had yet to meet a being of any race with the will to oppose the Most High.

"I made it clear upon your departure, did I not, that you were charged with eliminating the phaerimm at Shadowdale?" growled Telamont, and the weight of his fury pressed down upon Escanor so hard that the First Prince grunted aloud when he slammed into the floor. "Was I not inescapably clear when I told you that I would only permit this campaign if you were willing to eradicate our enemies without exception?"

"Yes, My Lord," came Prince Escanor's voice, muffled as it was by the smooth marble.

"Do you not comprehend the depths of the danger you have placed us all in?" The High Prince's eyes flashed forbiddingly, snowy-white, and in the blink of an eye Escanor found himself being dragged from his crouch by some invisible force and suspended before the Most High, the toes of his boots barely scraping the floor. Despite the fact that Telamont's razor-sharp ceremonial fangs were mere inches from Escanor's throat, the First Prince knew better than to flinch away. "The phaerimm you allowed to escape will be far more cautious now – we will likely never locate them again, and they will breed until they achieve numbers unlike anything we have ever seen!"

"I understand completely, My Lord," the First Prince managed to choke out, his eyes upon his father's distraught and tormented. "I accept full responsibility for my foolishness. I did not have the authority to order a retreat. I do not know what came over me."

Telamont abruptly released his eldest son – Escanor came down upon his feet, perfectly balanced – and seized the front of Escanor's tabard, tugging the taller shade down to his level. When their eyes met and the Most High was able to take note of the despair that lingered still in Escanor's eyes he let go, saying, "In two millennia you have never once conceded a disagreement so quickly. What is the meaning of this?"

First Prince Escanor wisely bent at the waist again, his next words carefully measured. "With the greatest possible respect, Most High One, I would perform today in precisely the same way if the situation arose again. And I will suffer my shame and disgrace without complaint if Soleil survives this tragedy."

Impossibly, it seemed, Telamont's expression softened; after a few moment's silent contemplation he put out a hand and straightened his son up so that their eyes could meet. Escanor seemed somehow ashamed and defiant all at once; Telamont found that he appreciated his eldest son's dilemma, in a way. When next he spoke, his voice was noticeably gentler. "That is why you returned to the enclave before the siege was over, is it? To see to her safety?"

Escanor jerked his head once in acquiescence but otherwise did not reply. The Most High exhaled deeply and turned away, stroking his narrow chin with one shadowy hand.

"I have seen the truth of your feelings for Soleil myself, try as you might to keep them to yourself," Telamont observed shrewdly. "That is why it grieves you so to see her suffering as she is now."

The First Prince's eyes were twin pools of molten copper, like metal made magma. "I know now how she must feel every time one of our family is threatened. This agony is unlike any I have ever been subject to… I could think of nothing but delivering her to safety. Do you think less of me for it?"

The High Prince's response was a pensive one, filled with his keen insight for all matters unspoken. "There was a time when I may have objected to your feelings – after all, Soleil is neither a shade nor a descendent of the Netherese Imperium from which the Tanthul family claims its proud legacy; as you know, the lack of either trait makes one unfit to serve as the significant other of any of the Twelve Princes of Shade. However, throughout the last few years of her servitude I have witnessed the depth of her devotion to us – such service has altered my perspective. I cannot honestly say now that I think less of you for your choice. Soleil could not be more deserving of these honors if she shared the blood of our ancestors, I think."

"That is why, were she of Shadovar birth of Netherese descent, I would have made her a shade. And where she a shade, I would have chosen to make her my princess years ago." Escanor spoke the words as though they had been on his mind for quite some time; his eyes veritably blazed with the power and truth of them. "However, I serve Thultanthar first and foremost. I know that this match would not likely please you, so I have said nothing of it. My duty is to you, and to my people." He spread his hands almost sadly then, and cast his gaze upon the floor when he added, "Though it seems a waste of words to even consider these things aloud. Soleil will likely never return my affections for any amount of reasons… and unless Rivalen can work some miracle, she may never have the opportunity to hear such a proposal."

Telamont draped an arm across his son's shoulders and led him to the staircase leading to the dias upon which his throne sat; they sat together on the bottommost stair, whereupon the High Prince said, "Soleil Chemaut has proved her worth a thousand times over – it may not be in her future to ever trade her soul for the essence of shadow, but do not forget that her soul already resides within my keeping: perhaps the greatest sacrifice a person can make. These details notwithstanding, you would be hard pressed to find any woman within the Lesser Court who is more deserving of your affections, or is better suited for you. As for her opinion of you… Perhaps she has made no verbal declaration, but I think I would not be far off the mark if I assumed her feelings for you are more akin to compassion than anything else. In time, perhaps, she will come to return these emotions you harbor for her."

"Then the Most High would approve of such a union?" asked Escanor, aghast, and Telamont grinned.

"I would. It is good, I suppose, that you left Shadowdale to save her – the loss of such a prized asset to Thultanthar would have been devastating to us. We would have mourned her for all time." Telamont rose and ascended gracefully to his throne, where he took his seat again; Escanor hurried to stand in his customary place at the foot of the dias, bowing again. "But take great care, Escanor – you owe this woman your life for the service she has performed for you. We princes of Shade may be barbarians in many other facets of our lives – war, conquest, and diplomacy foremost among these – but certainly not in affairs of the heart. Be considerate and courteous in the days to come. The extraction of a phaerimm egg is a difficult procedure… If she survives, she will need constant care. Show her that you are grateful for what she has done."

The First Prince dipped a regal bow, understanding that he was dismissed. "Yes, My Lord. Thank you for all of your sound advice. I will heed your words with care, as always."

* * *

Escanor's confrontations did not end in the Most High's audience chamber. Inevitably, it seemed, he was cornered in the Grand Hall by Clariburnus, Vattick, Brennus, and Hadrhune.

"Brennus has told us everything," said Clariburnus tersely; he seemed the most composed of all of them, but even he looked more than a little concerned. "I am sorry, brother. I should have accompanied you to Shadowdale and improved our chances of success. I have failed you."

"Nonsense," disagreed Escanor, shaking his head to reinforce his point. "All it would have done was split Soleil's focus more, and given her one more Tanthul to concern herself with. It is a blessing of the Dark Mother herself that Soleil is still alive. No, Clariburnus, today the failure is mine."

"I will agree with you there." Hadrhune's eyes stood out, livid, within his murk-swaddled face; his thumbnail gouged the shaft of his darkstaff so hard that wisps of raw shadowstuff bled from the cracked ebony surface. Vattick and Clariburnus, both long-time supporters of the ambitious seneschal, scowled dangerously when he addressed their oldest brother so rudely. "Not only did you fail to complete an important mission that the Most High himself charged you with, you may also be responsible for the premature passing of the Left Hand of the High Prince!"

Escanor opened his mouth to reprimand the impertinent shade, but surprisingly Brennus beat him to the punch. "And why does it matter to you whether a non-Tanthul of no lineage to speak of lives or dies, Hadrhune?"

"A fair question," Clariburnus cut back in, crossing his arms over his breastplate in an authoritative way. "Why does the situation bother you so?"

Hadrhune looked, if possible, rather uncomfortable with this unfavorable line of question; Escanor got the feeling that he had missed something important, for all three of his younger brothers were now regarding the seneschal with expressions that ranged anywhere from distaste to outright loathing. Hadrhune recovered himself quickly though, saying, "Do you not realize how furious the Most High will be if Soleil passes?! You will disgrace him with your lack of judgment! The mountebank is irreplaceable to our sovereign ruler!"

An awful hiss slipped through Clariburnus's bared teeth, but Vattick was the first to act; a black glass kukri flashed from within the folds of one voluminous sleeve of his illusionist's robes and slashed a great tear in the front of Hadrhune's shroud. The seneschal, though uninjured, staggered back several paces; Escanor and Clariburnus made a move to restrain their younger brother, but he wrestled away from them both. "I refuse to stand here while you disgrace Soleil like this! You are a piteous man, Hadrhune, and unfit to be the bearer of such a brilliant woman's affections! How dare you lie to our faces? We, the Princes of Shade? Do you think us unwise? Do you think this affair occurs beneath our notice?"

As Ninth Prince Vattick stood there, pewter eyes burning furious holes into Hadrhune's amber ones, a piece of the puzzle fell into place for Escanor – Soleil was already romantically involved with Hadrhune, though how seriously he could not hope to determine. Seeing that Vattick was quite prepared to strike again Escanor intervened, ordering the younger prince to stand down with a mere wave of one black hand; he then approached Hadrhune himself, towering head and shoulders over the shadow sorcerer.

"Undermine me again," he warned in a cold voice, "and I will unmake you."

With that Escanor turned away and swept down the hall for the hospital wing, Vattick, Brennus, and Clariburnus at his heels, leaving Hadrhune to mull over all the implications of his final declaration. Escanor waited until he had put several hallways between himself and Hadrhune before rounding on his three younger brothers, who all seemed to be expecting his tirade and shrank back from him almost at once; the First Prince's rage seemed to have played out, though, for he ran a hand down his face looking almost defeated.

"How long have you known?" he asked them in a strangled sort of voice, and Vattick and Brennus exchanged a guilty glance as Clariburnus cast his gaze ashamedly upon the floor.

"It has been many months," Brennus explained quietly, sympathy coloring his tone. "It was fear of being reprimanded that convinced her to confide in me first, and she let Vattick in on the secret herself mere days later. Hadrhune chose to make Clariburnus privy to it weeks later. We have kept their secret between us, for fear if it reached many more ears the Most High himself would come to find out and punish them both for their tryst."

"Though to suggest that this has occurred beyond the High Prince's notice is a foolish notion in itself," Vattick admitted sheepishly, with a helpless shrug of his shoulders. "He knows all that goes on within the enclave, and many things that occur elsewhere, through some manner of magic that is beyond all of us."

Escanor's attention was fully on Brennus now, who found that he already knew what his brother was going to say. "Why did you not tell me? All this time I have been confiding in you… You have known my true feelings from the start, and you did not once try to dissuade me… You never once let on that you knew about this! You encouraged my affections for Soleil! You gave me hope that she would return my feelings one day!"

Brennus spread his hands in an apologetic gesture, his face crumpled with despair and regret. "Do you think we would not all be happier to see Soleil with you, rather than with Hadrhune? Allow me to be frank with you for a moment, brother – I encourage your affections for her because Hadrhune, while a truly gifted shadow sorcerer and a great asset to the City of Shade, does not know the first thing about making a woman feel fulfilled and happy!"

This declaration seemed to have a significant effect on Escanor's demeanor; he glanced sidelong at Clariburnus and Vattick, who regarded him still with a little trepidation. "Do you know if this is true?"

Clariburnus shrugged as though he didn't wish to offer his opinion for fear he would anger his oldest brother, but Vattick offered his thoughts on the matter readily enough. "It is easy to see that Soleil cares for him a great deal," he admitted, "but she is often rebuffed by his paranoia. Perhaps Hadrhune could care for her in something more than just a carnal nature if he was not so obsessed with securing the High Prince's favor. He does not welcome her affections; he suppresses them for fear of losing all that he has been given."

Escanor's face had paled into a sickly gray shade at Clariburnus's words; they did not understand the reason behind his sudden ailment, but the answer became apparent the moment he had recovered his voice. "Did you say… their relationship is carnal in its nature?"

Clariburnus's face fell; Vattick lowered his head, and Brennus ran a hand down his face. None of them had the heart to admit that the relationship Hadrhune and Soleil shared had never been much more than a purely physical one, but Escanor felt nothing but grateful, for he hadn't the heart to hear it. Presently Brennus closed the distance between them, albeit hesitantly, and clapped his oldest brother bracingly upon the back when he was near enough.

"Now you know why I have never once discouraged your affections. For I know better than any the true depth of your feelings for Soleil, and I believe wholeheartedly that you would be for her ten times the man Hadrhune is capable of being."

Escanor found that he appreciated the sentiment, but that they were getting ahead of themselves; remembering the true and dire nature of the current situation he straightened and addressed all of them. "Your sympathies give me heart, but I think perhaps now is neither the time nor the place for so many suppositions. As much as it pains me to admit it, there is still a great chance that Soleil will not even survive this day. For now I think we would be better served leaving this conversation unresolved, and seeing about her condition."

"The twilight gathering draws near," Vattick reminded, and Escanor heaved a sigh.

"After the council, then," he decided. "It would not do for us to be absent."


	6. Six - Declared

Six: Declared

Soleil's and Rivalen's chairs stood vacant at the twilight gathering of the Shadow Court, and Escanor's were not the only anxious eyes that flitted surreptitiously to the mountebank's seat and back again every few seconds. Vattick and Mattick both seem to be counting the minutes to the end of the council session obsessively; Brennus stared blankly at the table and said very little in regards to any issue, his hands twisting worriedly in his lap and his expression subdued. Clariburnus and Hadrhune seemed ready to throttle one another and hardly stopped their threatening stare down to make comments. Escanor himself hardly paid attention, and stoically accepted many of his younger brother's disapproving stares and snide whispers as he recounted the battle at Shadowdale.

When the Most High dismissed the Shadow Council, half of the Princes of Shade dashed out of the meeting chamber and hurried together down the Grand Hallway to the hospital wing of the Palace Most High; outside the entrance doors they were surprised to find Second Prince Rivalen awaiting them, wiping his face clean with a dry cloth, his clerical robes veritably drenched in blood.

"Be at peace," he overrode them, seeing they were about to erupt into questioning. "It is done – the egg has been removed and I disposed of it personally. It is lucky you delivered her to me so quickly, Escanor – the foul creature would have hatched within the hour."

The terror constricting Escanor's muscles mercifully loosened at this news; Mattick and Vattick embraced one another out of sheer relief, Brennus's face split into a grateful smile, and Clariburnus audibly exhaled. The only other man among them, Hadrhune, kept his face perfectly emotionless and did not react at all, earning a glare from both Clariburnus and Brennus. Mattick was the first to ask: "May we see her?"

Rivalen shook his head. "Not yet. She is still unconscious and the fever lingers yet in her veins. I must go now and report to the Most High; when I return I will reassess her condition and perhaps you may visit her then. For now, do not disturb her. I will return within the hour."

Rivalen bowed to the First Prince and swept off up the hall toward the audience chamber, leaving the others on tenterhooks to wait.

* * *

Three-quarters of an hour later Prince Rivalen returned to the hospital wing to find that the group waiting for news of Soleil had diminished somewhat; only Escanor, Vattick, and Hadrhune remained, the first and last of which were shooting poisonous glances at one another every so often. Vattick leapt to attention when his elder brother came into view, but Rivalen settled him with a mildly impatient look.

"Patience," he sighed, pausing with his hand on the door leading into the hospital wing as he addressed them. "If the fever has left her I will permit one of you to see her, but only one. Above all else, Soleil must be allowed to rest. It will be at least a tenday until she is back to her former strength." And without waiting for a reply, Rivalen admitted himself.

The wait this time wasn't long; scarcely ten minutes later the Second Prince poked his head out into the hallway, and the three other shades immediately crowded around. Rivalen rolled his eyes. "The worst is over – I am leaving her in the charge of the recovery staff. She is awake now, but she is also in some pain; decide amongst yourselves who is to visit her now, but leave when the moon begins to wane and admit no one after you. The rest of you will have to wait until tomorrow. Now, if you will excuse me, I must return to the church." Rivalen curtly bowed himself away.

"Go ahead of me, brother," Vattick said wearily to Escanor. "Your authority far outweighs my own." As he said this he set his pewter eyes upon Hadrhune in a kind of silent warning, and the seneschal could only watch angrily as Escanor stepped through the door.

Soleil was indeed awake when Escanor entered her recovery chamber, and looked about as the First Prince had expected to find her – rather akin to a deathly sick person on the road to making an unexpected, miraculous recovery. She was propped up comfortably on a mound of black velvet pillows and wore no shirt; her entire torso and stomach was wrapped securely with shadowsilk dressings, which barely moved as her breathing was still rather shallow. Her skin was a shade paler than usual and her lips bloodless, but she turned her head and smiled weakly at him when he entered. Escanor bade Soleil's two nurses to be gone with a single nod in their direction before approaching her bedside, but as he drew nearer the mountebank flinched away and winced.

"Do not trouble yourself when you have already done quite enough of that on my account," Escanor begged her with a slight frown. "What reason do you have to fear me?"

Soleil grimaced and moved one hand reflexively to her abdomen; the agony was apparent in her every expression and movement. Embarrassed and ashamed she grumbled, "I shoved you. Are you not angry? If the Most High knew that I had shoved his eldest son, but the Dark Moon – "

Escanor ended Soleil's despairing words with a hearty laugh and pulled the only chair in the room right up to her bedside, reaching out one hand to ruffle her disheveled hair good naturedly. "You fear you will be reprimanded for that? I understand now what the Most High means when he insists you take your duty too seriously at times! I am not angry, and no trouble will come to you. I am grateful for what you have done and relieved to see you are safe. You would do well to put these unfounded concerns out of your mind."

As he finished he brushed a few strands of black hair away from Soleil's face; feeling the coolness in her cheeks through his fingertips he frowned and murmured, "May I?" When she nodded tiredly he allowed his hand to linger, warming her face with his touch, and she sighed contentedly .

At length she asked, "What happened at Shadowdale?"

"I ordered a retreat," admitted Escanor with a sigh. "It seemed the only choice if we hoped to save your life. Rivalen has already told me that the egg was dangerously near to hatching when he extracted it. Had we remained in Shadowdale, you would have certainly been lost."

"So it is because of me we did not claim a victory over the phaerimm?" Soleil grimaced yet again, more from shame than any physical pain this time. "You should not have concerned yourself with me. The Most High – "

" – Has already professed his disappointment that our enemies were not destroyed outright, but understands why I made the decision I did," Escanor reassured, stroking Soleil's face in an attempt to soothe her, and even offered her the ghost of a grin. "I really must insist that you stay your anxieties. You placed your life at risk in the name of the First Prince of Shade – selflessly, not for any reward or praise. The Most High will not soon forget the sacrifice you made today, and neither will I."

Escanor's eyes were soft pools of molten copper as he studied her face, his thumb gently caressing her pale cheek; Soleil nuzzled her face into his shadowy hand, and a little color returned to her chalky skin as she blushed.

Reluctantly, Escanor broke the silence. "Why did you do it? A phaerimm egg is fatal in most cases. You might have died today."

"Then I would have died proudly and honorably, in the name of First Prince Escanor Tanthul. Such a dignified death is something I can only dream of, something the Shadovar and Netherese dwelling within the enclave would envy openly for years to come." Soleil's eyes sparkled with something like glory, but there was something else present there that prompted Escanor to press her for a deeper answer.

"Am I to understand that you would have thrown yourself in harm's way for any of my brothers with equal fervor?" inquired Escanor innocently.

Soleil shifted in such a way that the First Prince felt her breath on his hand when she turned her head to regard him; impulsively he removed his hand from her face, remembering his discussion with the High Prince only a few hours before. It made the mountebank's reply uncertain but no less passionate. "I would have taken a phaerimm egg for any of them, but perhaps not as readily. My vow binds me to each of you, for which I have always been grateful, but you…" She broke off uncertainly for a moment, as though considering just how much of the truth to divulge, before plunging recklessly on ahead. "You don't just tolerate me, you enjoy my company. You do more than acknowledge me, you see me. Few in all of Thultanthar have ever made such an effort to recognize my efforts, or to make me feel as welcome here as you have. You do me a great honor – me, a servant of the High Prince, of no lineage to speak of, a friend of the High Prince's eldest son? For that, and for the countless other honors you grant me, I can assure you that no harm will ever come to you if there is anything I might do to intervene."

Truly touched by the mountebank's heartfelt words, Escanor leaned forward and took one of Soleil's clammy hands in both of his own. "Allow me to make you a similar vow – for all that you have done for me and my family, and for all that you have yet to do, you will never again come to harm while I live and breathe."

Something in Soleil's eyes froze, as though his declaration almost caused tears to fall, but she shook her head stubbornly and battle back to emotional impulses. "I cannot accept such a promise from you."

Escanor had expected to hear as much, and was quick with his rebuttal. "Would you accept my promise if I was Hadrhune?"

Soleil's face abruptly turned the color of sour milk – the silence between them was profound. It was quite some time before she had mastered herself, and when she spoke her voice was feeble. "How did you know?"

"It seems that a few of my brothers knew long ago – Vattick let it slip earlier, shortly after my return." Escanor waved a hand negligently. "It matters not. I asked you a question… is that why you will not accept my vow? Because I am not the man that you desire?"

Soleil's strength was clearly beginning to wane on account of the taxing nature of their conversation; she managed a smile that was part agony and part bliss, and even squeezed his fingers weakly. When she replied, the words floored him. "You make the mistake of thinking that I do not desire you, and that could not be further from the truth – how could I not, as kind and considerate as you have always been of me? This relationship that I have with Hadrhune…" She took a moment to gather her thoughts, which Escanor could only assume were chaotic in nature. "We entered into it because we have one thing in common – we are outsiders here, guests intruding upon the majesty that is the Tanthul family. Though I will not say that I don't care for him, for in many ways I do, I must confess… The feelings that I have for you are much stronger."

Escanor felt numb from the shock of her revelation, though warmth was swiftly spreading its comfort through his body as he came to understand that her words were all true. However, one thing eluded him still. "Why have you never told me of this? You must know that the feelings you have for me are mutual."

"How could I, when you are the oldest of the High Prince's sons? You are the next in line to one of the most coveted legacies in all of Faerun! And who am I?" Soleil drew her hand from his grasp then, seeming ashamed of herself. "In the grand scheme of things, I am no one. I have earned the High Prince's favor through countless deeds that are both selfless and valorous, perhaps, but all that I have done cannot bring me any closer to becoming the woman that you so deserve. I am not of Shadovar birth, and I am not of Netherese descent. Your people have always viewed common folk like me as undeserving even to stand in your presence, and they always will. So how then could I confess my feelings for you, when I consider myself unfit to stand beside you?"

"You think far too little of yourself," said Escanor a little sternly, a crease forming in his brow as he regarded her. "While it is true that the legacy I will one day inherit is, as you have said, a rather lofty one, do not forget that a person's blood is not the only thing that wins the favor of the Twelve Princes of Shade. I can personally say that your lineage does not concern me… I am honestly quite taken by your loyalty, and your honesty, and your selfless dedication to all of our affairs – even the ones that are less than reputable in their nature! Do not fear. The Most High says the same of you, and often." Soleil's cheeks reddened – she had never gotten used to such praise from any of them – and remembering again his promise to be courteous of her Escanor hastened to add, "Let us speak no more of this now; nothing is more important than your health, and your recovery will be slow and lengthy. I have said nothing today with the intention of stealing you away from Hadrhune, I assure you, and I would even prefer it if you stayed with him; I would much rather take my time showing you just how devoted a Prince of Shade can be, and leave the choice up to you."

Soleil nodded wearily, her eyes fluttering as she fought back the urge to sleep. "I will consider all that you have said carefully, and I will do my best to live up to your expectations."

Escanor smiled and shook his head gently, saying simply, "You already have."

He then replaced his chair in a corner of the room and quietly dismissed himself, but in the Grand Hallway he lingered with his back to the door and his mind a jumble of emotions.

* * *

"You saw all of that?" breathed Rosalles incredulously, just loud enough for Phendrana to feel justified in shushing him, and the mercenary captain clapped both hands over his mouth and glanced concernedly over his shoulder to ensure that he hadn't woken any of the others. Thankfully they continued to sleep soundly, Aust snoring lightly with his mouth slightly agape and an empty bottle of mead not far from where he lay, and looking back to Phendrana the mercenary simply rolled his eyes as if to say "What else is new?"

Phendrana allowed himself a tiny sort of grim smile, but it was really all he could muster as far as being amused. He had just finished divulging to his significant other all that had transpired in the last few hours, from wandering about the city of Manifest and meeting the curious drow who called himself Specter to being awoken mere hours later and finding himself spirited away to some unknown location and witnessing the indescribable sacrifice of the mountebank Soleil. Though he was having difficulty keeping himself awake now – for the combination of the day's highly emotional events coupled with finding very little real rest had left him quite frazzled – he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep until he had shared the events with someone else. Now he settled back against the foot of the couch in the sitting room of the villa they had taken up temporary residence in, watching a multitude of emotions flash across Rosalles's face. Phendrana thought it best if he spoke first, to save him the trouble.

"I have my theories about why exactly this man Specter sought me out," Phendrana began slowly, mulling over the day's many events as he spoke. "At this point I think that there are really only two logical explanations… either my name has gained notoriety faster than I could ever have imagined, or Specter is somehow connected to the Twelve Princes of Shade."

Rosalles's face paled a little, and though he fought valiantly to hide it Phendrana still noticed. "What reason would they have to deploy their private forces against you? Do you think we have really angered them to the point that they would retaliate forcibly?"

Phendrana dropped his head into his hands, massaging his temples with his abnormally long, dexterous fingers. If he was prepared to be perfectly truthful with himself, he would never have imagined a secretive, elusive society such as Thultanthar would ever trouble itself with the affairs of him and his friends, but ever since they had come to blows over Leevoth's sword in the Frostfell he had been forced to reconsider that line of thinking. Was the passing of one shade really such a concern to the City of Shade that its venerable ruler would condescend to enlist his own sons to see to it?

"I am not certain," the doppelganger admitted at length, "but we cannot exclude it from the realm of possibility, especially now that we have met representatives of the enclave – even more so since that meeting ending in hostility. Why the Shadovar would keep such questionable company I can only guess, but this Specter knew a great deal about me – including my name, and the fact that my thoughts are not the only ones that make themselves heard in my mind."

He finished by tapping his index finger lightly against his own forehead; Rosalles leaned forward, his elbows balanced upon his knees, and cocked his head curiously to one side. "He knew of the others? But… how?"

"I do not have the answer, but he knew Ristel's name."

Rosalles changed tack, though not to confuse him, Phendrana knew – rather, it seemed he was uncertain just which issue to address, and when. "And the scene that he showed you, with the girl and the phaerimm? Do you think it was real?"

Phendrana couldn't help feeling taken aback by this question, the last thing he had expected Rosalles to say in response to what had occurred after he had taken Specter's hand. "Real? Why wouldn't it be?"

"I mean no offense," Rosalles backpedaled quickly, holding up his hands palms-forward as if to placate the mindmaster. "It's just… You know so little of this rogue drow Specter. How certain can you be that what he showed you was a real train of events, and not a fabrication he presented to you at the order of the Princes of Shade? If you are correct about them, and we truly have something to fear where they are concerned… Is it safe for us to exclude that from the realm of possibility?"

The doppelganger sighed heavily, feeling ever more fatigued by the puzzling series of events, but he remembered vividly what he had seen and felt upon witnessing the girl throw herself in harm's way for a shade who was undoubtedly a member of Thultanthar's royal family. Though he was quite skeptical of both the Princes of Shade and the drow Specter, he had to admit he felt an unexplainable sort of kinship for the girl with the piercing golden eyes who acted as the protector of the Tanthul family, if only because he knew better than anyone what it was like to give everything you possessed in the defense of others. It was as though he could relate to her in that aspect at least, despite the fact that they had only faced one another once, as enemies.

"It was real," he said at last, in a tone that stated this was to be the end of the discussion. "I felt it."

They brooded silently for a few minutes, until Phendrana's head began to droop involuntarily onto his chest; Rosalles eased him down upon his bedroll, even going so far as to fluff the pillow beneath his head. The mindmaster gazed blearily up at him and managed to offer the smallest of grateful smiles, and as Rosalles stroked one hand gently over Phendrana's cheek the doppelganger closed his eyes and drifted almost instantly to sleep.

Though he was still weary himself Alvaro Rosalles stayed awake for another half hour or more, absentmindedly brushing his fingertips across Phendrana's cheek and wondering just how much more trouble the Princes of Shade were preparing to send their way.

* * *

Fourth Prince Aglarel did not expect that the world window would be in use at four o' clock in the morning.

He hadn't had a single moment to himself since the battalion that had been dispatched to Shadowdale earlier in the day had returned. As head of High Prince's Telamont's personal bodyguard and sole enforcer of the protective enchantments and overall security of Thultanthar, he had busied himself with testing the integrity of the city's defenses when he had heard that many of the phaerimm that had been targeted had gone free; after ensuring that all was well he had attended the twilight gathering to hear First Prince Escanor's testimony, and at the conclusion of the council meeting he had stayed close to the High Prince's side for the rest of the day. When at last Telamont had retired for the night, Aglarel had stolen through the quiet palace halls and into the Most High's audience chamber, determined to use the mysterious enchantments that the world window possessed to see just where the phaerimm had fled to, and perhaps even muster a small group of his own personal assassins to pick off a few of them.

He certainly hadn't expected to find someone else standing between him and the answers he desired, but that was precisely what he found when he stepped into the audience hall and found his youngest brother, Brennus, standing at the precipice of the basin in which the world window was built and looking down with a pensive expression. Aglarel moved to his side with measured footsteps, doing his best not to disturb his brothers' contemplations but curious as to what demanded such rapt attention. On the smooth surface was displayed the image of two men facing one another, sitting in a darkened sitting room in a location that Aglarel didn't immediately recognize, a human with a weather-beaten face and a sheet of dark hair and a doppelganger with unnaturally large eyes.

"Are they enemies of Shade?" As the captain of High Prince Telamont's guard, this was generally the first question Aglarel asked when observing faces he wasn't familiar with.

Brennus started and glanced up; it was clear in his expression that he hadn't heard his older brother approach, though this was hardly a rarity. Aglarel prized himself on his stealth, and often landed himself in situations that forced him to depend on it to survive.

"Well met." Brennus turned his bronze eyes back to the world window, studying the two men displayed on the surface with curiosity and interest. "That remains to be seen; certainly they have performed an act or two that places them at odds with the Most High's interests, but enemies of Shade? I hesitate to call them that just yet."

Aglarel crossed his arms, his silver eyes narrowing to slits as he watched the scene before them. "What have they done to disrupt the High Prince's plans?"

A corner of Brennus's mouth twitched upward into a brief smirk, a sure sign, Aglarel assumed, that the loremaster was mildly amused with their transgressions. "They are responsible for the death of Captain Leevoth, one of Prince Clariburnus's most esteemed lieutenants serving the Army of Shade. As yet I am vague on the details, but from what I understand Leevoth ran afoul of an aasimar with a vendetta against him, and these men were among the group she allied herself with to exact her vengeance." A crease formed in the loremaster's brow then, and he frowned down at the surface of the world window. "What I don't understand is how an aasimar who has reportedly been dead for twelve years could be capable of exacting vengeance at all."

The Fourth Prince flung out an arm to indicate the image before them; by now the doppelganger had laid down, presumably to find some rest, and the man with the eyes as blue as ocean depths set to stroking his cheek reassuring with one hand. "The answer lies in front of you – that is a doppelganger. It would be all too easy for him to take on the likeness of your aasimar, and put an end to Leevoth."

Brennus was nodding, as though he had arrived at this conclusion already. "But why?"

"What does it matter?" Aglarel sighed impatiently. "If you know for a fact that they are responsible for the death of a lieutenant of the Army of Shade, send a few members of the Lower Court to dispatch them. Do not concern yourself with these petty transgressions – Leevoth may have been valuable, but new recruits are in training under Clariburnus's watchful eye every day. One captain may die, but two dozen more will ascend through the ranks to replace him."

"I returned to the Frostfell where Leevoth was reportedly killed," Brennus continued in a vague voice, as though he had scarcely heard a word his older brother had said. "One of the scrolls of Netheril was rumored to be within the ruin along with Leevoth's enchanted greatsword, and we encountered the doppelganger and his friends there. Though they offered minimal resistance, my instincts tell me that they are mighty foes indeed."

Aglarel was silent for a moment, brooding over Brennus's claims. If it was true – and the even-tempered Twelfth Prince had never been known to exaggerate matters – they were not only dealing with enemies of Shade, they were dealing with a very real threat.

And Fourth Prince Aglarel was known for eliminating potential threats.

"Then let us be rid of them by any means," he said at length, but Brennus shook his head.

"The Most High wishes for me to observe them for now, to better determine if they mean us any harm or if they were simply happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time." Brennus shrugged – he had yet to pry his eyes away from the image reflected upon the surface of the world window. "My official report of the situation states that Leevoth slaughtered the aasimar's entire family, and allowed her to live for whatever reason… I suppose we can hardly blame the aasimar for hunting him, if that is the case."

Aglarel cocked an eyebrow. "It would seem you are divining little by watching the doppelganger sleep."

Brennus would say little more on the subject, save for the moment when he murmured beneath his breath, "He fascinates me."

The Fourth Prince shifted uncomfortably on the spot, but at once decided not to antagonize his youngest brother any further. Knowing that Brennus often entertained unconventional tastes in his private life Aglarel sidled away saying, "I won't disturb you any further. Do contact me when you have finished."

"I am finished." Brennus waved his hand dismissively over the shimmering glass-like surface, and abruptly the world window grew dark, its face nondescript save for an almost eerie backlit glow. "I have much to do anyway. I am near to divining the location of yet another of the scrolls of Netheril, so I must return to my studies."

"Oh?" Aglarel pressed, even as Brennus turned away from the world window and padded across the floor toward the double doors leading away from the Most High's audience chamber. "Have your studies revealed a location?" When Brennus cocked his head to one side and regarded his older brother with a certain measure of suspicion, Aglarel added, "A safety precaution, nothing more."

"The ruins of the Mines of Tethyamar," Brennus divulged, "once of the dwarves, now being mined by the Zhentarim. The ruins are near here – only some one hundred miles away from Thultanthar. Once the location is confirmed, I expect a swift journey and very little conflict for the excavating party."

Aglarel was nodding along thoughtfully, though his eyes appeared somehow grim; at a questioning look from the loremaster he offered his opinion on the matter. "I am certain the Most High will tell you as much, but allow me to offer you an advance warning – do not take the excavation of Tethyamar and the recovery of the Nether Scroll too lightly, Brennus. Only a few days ago you watched a host of phaerimm flee the ruins at Shadowdale, and the Mines of Tethyamar are not far enough away for us to take much comfort. I have come here to divine the hiding place of these phaerimm, but as yet I haven't determined much, so be wary. Surely the Most High will agree to your proposal and allow you to seek out the scroll, but you would do well to exercise a great deal of caution. Arm yourself well – the phaerimm could be anywhere, and they will certainly be on their guard for now."

Brennus could not deny his older brother's logic – after all, Shadowdale and Tethyamar stood barely one hundred and fifty miles apart, and though they were separated by the great Desertsmouth Mountains it would be no problem at all for the phaerimm to escape to the east, and take refuge in the vast sands of the Anauroch Desert. He brooded for a few moments longer looking mildly troubled, until Aglarel waved him away somewhat dismissively.

"Don't worry yourself over it at this hour," insisted the Fourth Prince. "Rest for now and return to your studies in the morning. I would not be concerned until you have ascertained the exact location, and besides – in the event that the phaerimm are anywhere near the scroll, we have the means to dispatch a force that will utterly overwhelm them."

The loremaster nodded and dipped a gratuitous bow, murmuring, "I will think carefully on this matter, brother, and thank you for your insight. Your words hold great wisdom."

They parted ways there, Aglarel activating the world window and Brennus shadow-walking back to his private residence, all the while thinking of the curious doppelganger and just what would come of that fateful encounter in the Frostfell.

* * *

Aust was the last to wake the next morning, though it was nearer to mid-afternoon than anything else; his four companions were seated at the round table in the dining area, bent over a yellowed sheaf of parchment that they had weighed down at the corners with odds and ends from around the house they were residing in to keep it from rolling. He dragged himself out of his bedroll and tied his unruly rust-colored hair back with a worn leather strap before joining them, and standing over Ivy he glanced down at the thing that so demanded their attention. It appeared to be a map of the northwestern hemisphere of Faerun, from the seas east of Neverwinter Wood to the Dragonspine Mountains and from the High Ice and extending as far south as Cormyr.

The wiry half elf set his hands on his hips and scowled. "Aye – what's the meanin' of this, then?"

Rosalles and Phendrana had their heads together and were whispering intently; Aidan trained her eerie orange eyes upon him in a disapproving way, saying, "Isn't it obvious? There is little for us to accomplish here – the living do not belong in Manifest. So today we are leaving, and Phendrana is explaining to us just what we can expect to encounter when we arrive at our destination."

"And just where are we bound?" Aust asked dubiously, for the last time Phendrana had led them on an errand Aust had been run through the middle with a mountebank's enchanted falchion, and now had nothing more than frostbite on four of his toes to show for his efforts.

"He means to pursue the Shadovar," Aidan told him, a sour note to her tone, and Aust clapped a hand down none-too-gently upon the doppelganger's shoulder and forced Phendrana to look him in the eye.

"Are ye mad?!" Aust bellowed, and Phendrana wrinkled his nose at the stench of alcohol that lingered on the half elf's breath. "Do ye not remember what happened the last time we ran afoul of those demons?! Those damn devils ran off with that damn sword ye all wanted so badly, and the woman with 'em skewered me! And now ye're sayin' ye wanna go after 'em?!"

"Much has happened since then," Rosalles interrupted, patting the back of one of Phendrana's hands reassuringly, for the mindmaster was looking scandalized by the outburst. "Last night while we slept Phendrana had a visitor who showed him things occurring elsewhere – all of these things involved the Shadovar, and has painted them in a different light. Is it not worth at least a brief investigation on our part?"

Aust seized handfuls of his matted red hair in frustration. "An _investigation_?! Listen to yerselves! Do ye hear how ridiculous this sounds?! We killed one of their own and they warned us to keep away from 'em, and now here ye are, wantin' to go lookin' for 'em?!" He jabbed a finger in Phendrana's face, ignoring Rosalles's half-formed protests and Aidan's expression of fury when he roared, "Ye'll get us all killed in pursuit of yer curiosities!"

Rosalles launched himself from his chair with one hand upon the pommel of his rapier, his eyes narrowed and his face enraged; behind him Phendrana covered his face with his hands, and though his expression was hidden Aust was certain tears had sprung up in the doppelganger's eyes. He felt a pang of guilt for being the cause of the mindmaster's grief, but it dissolved quickly in the face of Rosalles's antagonism.

"Do you even know what has happened?" growled Rosalles in a dangerous voice. "Were you going to bother to ask, or are you keen on blaming the entirety of this mess on Phendrana?"

Aust's vision was tinted red until he felt a gentle pressure upon his hand, and he glanced down to find Ivy clinging to his fingers beseechingly; her eyes were wide with desperation and the hope that he might find it in his heart to hear their friend out, and he found that he could not continue his tirade in the face of her almost childlike innocence. He waved his free hand in Phendrana's direction, saying gruffly, "Let's have it, then!"

Phendrana dropped his hands back to the table, his cheeks slightly flushed and his eyes bright with emotion as he fixed his gaze firmly upon the surface of the weathered table; his voice was monotonous when he spoke. "I was visited last night by a man I was not familiar with… A drow who calls himself Specter. The others are not familiar with him… I don't suppose you know of him?"

"I don't," Aust barked, and Ivy squeezed his hand again in a wordless effort to calm him.

"Somehow he showed me things that were happening elsewhere," Phendrana continued timidly. "I was afforded a glimpse into the true natures of the Shadovar, as well as the woman who attacked you back in the Frostfell. A group of the Shadovar had engaged in battle against the phaerimm, and the woman was among them… She sacrificed herself for one of the shades. It was valorous and unexpected and… terrifying." He broke off with a delicate shudder, and Rosalles retreated to his side to stroke his hand along the doppelganger's back soothingly; Aust crossed his arms across his chest, at once looking both surly and thoughtful.

"Phaerimm, ye say?" Aust resisted the urge to spit upon the floor of their temporary residence, his natural reaction to things he considered detestable. "Well, that adds up, at least."

"What do you mean?" Rosalles asked, and Aust rolled his eyes.

"Those damn shades have made themselves a lot of enemies, from what I've heard," he explained, "but none they hate more'n the phaerimm. Everybody knows that, Rosie." Rosalles chose not to respond to the utterance of the half elf's cursed nickname for him – which was fortunate, for Aust had no intention of giving him the opportunity to interrupt a second time. "Ye said the girl sacrificed herself for one of the shades? Makes sense too, I reckon. We all saw how quick she was to run me through the moment that prince of theirs told her to. Doesn't seem a stretch for her to put her life on the line for one o' them either, does it?"

"So you believe that what the drow showed me really happened?" Phendrana burst out, sitting up a little straighter in his chair, and Aust cocked an eyebrow.

"Sure, if'n only 'cause the facts match. Why? Somebody here been questionin' ye?" He finished by glaring pointedly in Rosalles's direction, and found a measure of satisfaction in the way the mercenary's cheeks burned crimson at this accusation.

Predictably, Phendrana came to his lover's rescue. "It wasn't like that… It's just… Can we trust anything where the Shadovar are involved?"

"And yet ye wanna go lookin' for 'em," Aust reminded, and Phendrana swiftly averted his gaze. It seemed they were destined to argue then, but Aidan rose solemnly from her chair and addressed them all.

"I may not like it, but there is no denying the conclusion that Phendrana has come to – there is much we do not know where the Shadovar are concerned. Do not mistake my words for a defense of them, but consider all that we have learned thus far: firstly, they did not come looking for us. We happened to make for the same location at the same time, and that is all. Secondly, why were they there? To cause us harm? To exact revenge in the name of their fallen comrade? No – they were there to reclaim things that, by all accounts, rightfully belong to them. Thirdly, they might have killed you, Aust. They might have dispatched us all in an instant, but they chose not to. And now an ally of theirs who is decidedly non-Shadovar has sacrificed herself to keep one of their number safe? Tell me, all of you – do their actions speak of wickedness, or even of ill will?"

They all exchanged thoughtful, uncertain glances in the wake of Aidan's presentation of the facts, and though they were all still skeptical they could not refute the truth behind her claims. Aust was the first to sigh heavily and throw his hands up in a gesture of long-suffering consent, saying, "Do what ye will, then. I don' like it, but I can't rightfully leave ye to yer own devices, can I? So if it's after 'em ye wanna go, it's after 'em we'll go together, or not at all."

Phendrana was touched by Aust's devotion, despite the man's obvious qualms with the idea, and attempted to rebel almost at once. "Aust –"

"Together," Aust overrode him with a tone of finality, "or not at all."

So the doppelganger glanced around at his dear companions as if wordlessly asking their permission, pleased when he was met with various degrees of compliance and yet somehow ashamed of himself for what he was asking them to do. While it was true that his intuition was as sharp as a blade and that his instincts were seldom wrong, he knew he was asking a great deal of them when not so long ago he had told them nothing but lies. Guilt burned in his chest as he considered what he might be leading them into, and he was silent for many long moments as he worked to sublimate it. What if they came to harm, simply because they had agreed to trust him so blindly?

When he felt as though he had mastered himself, he addressed them. "Then I will see about locating a portal away from here at once. I have a vague idea of where to start."

* * *

Four days after the extraction surgery Soleil's strength had not returned by any means, but both Hadrhune and Ninth Prince Vattick hinted that the afternoon council session would include a vote of no small importance. Knowing full well that High Prince Telamont never called for a vote unless the issue was too pivotal too decide on his own Soleil willed her tired body to carry her to the audience hall just a few minutes before noon, her imperial armor a little looser around her already lithe frame than it had been before, her eyes dull and colorless. When she managed to push the door open – even such a simple action sapped what little strength she had – it was to find Twelfth Prince Brennus standing behind his seat looking as giddy as if his birthday had come early, and then First Prince Escanor was at her side at once.

"Opportunistic fool!" he hissed disapprovingly, his copper eyes raking over her weary face worriedly. "You have no business being out of bed! You need to rest! What are you doing here?!"

Like a shadow splitting from a greater darkness Hadrhune appeared at the mountebank's side, smiling a smile that was as devious as it was disarming as he drifted to Soleil's side. "She is a member of this council, Prince Escanor, and her voice should be heard, should it not?" While Escanor scowled the seneschal turned to face Soleil. "It is good to see you up and about again. I trust you are feeling well?"

"Well enough," Soleil mumbled weakly, but she grimaced when Hadrhune turned his back on her and Escanor wisely steered her to her chair.

"Let us convene this afternoon session of the Shadow Court," rasped Telamont from his place at the head of the rectangular table, and he gestured immediately to his youngest son, who turned delightedly to address the group at large.

"Council members, I have news that will astound you. This day I have at last pinpointed another of the ancient Netherese outposts for which I have been searching. The ruin is part of the Mines of Tethyamar and has already been marked for excavation; my group of loremasters and historians has already assembled at my request. I wish to depart from here within a few hours, if it can be managed… It is my belief that one of the Nether Scrolls resides within one of the collapsed libraries.

"There is, however, one complication that we must address: phaerimm have been spotted haunting the area. To my knowledge they are not nesting in the region, nor are they currently within the excavation site at all, but because of their presence we must put this matter to a vote. Prince Escanor?"

Escanor was looking grim but pleased. "It is likely that the phaerimm that have settled in the mining area is the same group of survivors that escaped Shadowdale. If you are able to recover a Scroll and wipe out the rest of the thornbacks, you will have my everlasting gratitude. Of course I will vote in favor of your excavation, brother – you have my full support."

Soleil relaxed back, doing her best to ignore the spasm of pain that rippled through her midsection. Formality required Brennus to call for an actual vote, but the topic of recovering the Scrolls of Netheril was one of the few discussion the Shadow Council always agreed unanimously upon. Brennus himself had acquired the first of the Nether Scrolls many years before Soleil had come to the City of Shade – texts penned before the fall of the Netherese Imperium that detailed anything from Netherese history to arcane secrets of the civilization's most powerful archwizards to recipes for long-forgotten potions. A child prodigy with a natural aptitude for history, Brennus specialized in unlocking the secrets to ancient Netheril.

"It is settled, then," said Telamont silkily, when the matter ended in unanimous vote in favor of retrieving the Nether Scroll. "Brennus will take his historians and begin the excavation of the collapsed library. In lieu of the presence of a group of phaerimm, I advise you to take a moderately-sized force of both military and arcanists in the event that you are confronted by any hostiles in the midst of your search."

"I couldn't agree more, Most High One," complied the Twelfth Prince with a polite bow, and he turned at once to Fifth Prince Clariburnus. "I can assemble the arcanists easily enough, but would you do me the honor of commanding the soldiers, Clariburnus?"

Never one to be left out of a potential skirmish, Clariburnus nodded once and smiled broadly. "It would be my utmost pleasure, young brother. Let the thornbacks disrupt our search if they dare – on my life and my birthright as a prince, I will bring the wrath of Shade down upon each and every one!"

"I will offer you a further warning," said Telamont, and this time he rose from his high back chair, his platinum eyes shining seriously out of the perpetual darkness that was his face. "The doppelganger Phendrana and his traveling companions have been spotted in the forests to the east of the Mines of Tethyamar, presumably searching for the Shadovar. I do not know what it is they are after, but they may attempt to intervene – therefore, an extra precaution may be in order."

Telamont reclaimed his chair; Brennus gazed down at the onyx table thoughtfully, clearly considering how best to plan for such a contingency. The announcement was certainly news to Soleil, who had heard very little news from her sickbed; she could feel the High Prince's eyes upon her face, forming the conclusions even as she did.

Brennus looked to where Hadrhune sat at the end of the table. "It might not be such a bad idea to have you and your Shadow Riders in the air, circling the encampment," said the Twelfth Prince to the amber eyed seneschal. "Do you think perhaps you might bring a few of them, so that we will know if Phendrana approaches?"

In addition to the many personal duties he carried out for Most High Telamont, Hadrhune also commanded an elite group of Shadovar hexblades called the Shadow Riders. These half-soldier, half-arcanists often ran reconnaissance missions for matters of great importance, flying into battle upon the backs of fearsome shadow dragons. Hadrhune's mount, a particularly malevolent wyrm the seneschal called Delethyrsos, was one of the most malicious shadow beasts in all of Shade Enclave.

Hadrhune declined his head, a show of acceptance. "I will muster a small scout group of Riders with no delay, Prince Brennus."

The session seemed to be wrapping up; in her mind Soleil clearly thought the words, _If I may be so bold as to make a request, Most High One._

She glanced at Telamont with tired eyes; he seemed displeased, it seemed, because he had already guessed her request, but he extended a hand in her direction to indicate she should speak. Soleil did not leave her chair, for she doubted she had enough strength to remain upright without swooning. "With all due respect, Most High One, I would like to go to the excavation site also. With two of your sons and your chosen emissary at work outside the enclave, it is unlikely I will find any rest while they are away."

"Do you think that is wise?" growled Prince Escanor immediately, but Telamont silenced him with a single forbidding glare.

"Please be reasonable, Soleil," pleaded Brennus, his eyes upon the mountebank's beseeching. "The egg was removed barely four days ago; you know as well as I do they you are nowhere near to being fully recovered. Were you in full health I would be more than happy to accept your aid, but taking your current condition into consideration – "

"You all know full well that the fate I suffered was meant to be Prince Escanor's," Soleil pointed out fervently. "Is it not my sworn duty to serve all of you just as I served him? Do not deny me this! We cannot afford any outside complications to make this mission any more difficult! This is the origin of our ancestors, the cornerstone to our way of life, that we are discussing here!"

"You speak as though your own life is expendable," protested Clariburnus. "I cannot speak for every member of this council, but I am certainly not willing to place your well being at further risk just to preserve my own."

"My brother's statement garners my full support," interjected Vattick.

"And mine," agreed Seventh Prince Dethud.

"I am certain we are all in agreement," said Escanor a little sternly.

"Regardless," Soleil cut back in, as emphatically as she could manage, "this is the reason – or at least one of the reasons – I have a seat on this council! My connection to each of you makes me an irreplaceable asset. I am meant to protect you all. Healthy or not, I will not relinquish my right to serve in the way I was intended to serve."

Hadrhune was grinning by the time she had finished. "Well spoken, Soleil. Your condition is, of course, regrettable, but I will not refuse your aid – especially when you have made such an irrefutable argument in your favor."

"It is clear that Soleil cannot be left behind," said Telamont, and his voice left no more room for debate. "Since you favor her cause, Hadrhune, I place her in your personal care."

"It will be my pleasure, Most High One." Hadrhune's voice was saturated with sincerity, but the grin his cast Escanor's way was openly mocking.

"There is nothing more to discuss on this matter. Take great care over the next many days, all of you; I expect regular reports of your progress." This last Telamont spoke mostly to Brennus, who bowed low in response. "Go then, you four, with my blessing."

Soleil rose excruciatingly slowly from her seat, her knees trembling, but Hadrhune darted to her side and grasped her elbow to keep her upright. Escanor turned to regard Clariburnus and Brennus, his jaw set as he struggled to keep his true emotions in check. "He is merely attempting to undermine me by telling Soleil what she wishes to hear – every moment she is outside the city without retrieving the proper care and rest is a moment her life is in danger. I do not believe for a moment that he has her best interests at heart, or that he will concern himself with her at all the instant you reach the excavation site. I have no choice but to remain here and prepare for the negotiations with Waterdeep, therefore I am counting on you both – keep an eye on Soleil. She has very little regard for her own well being, as I am certain you have noticed."

"Of course, brother," assured Brennus.

"It will be done," Clariburnus promised.

* * *

Escanor ventured down to the veserab stables with the twins Mattick and Vattick to see those bound to the excavation site on their way; Clariburnus and Brennus were already mounted upon their veserabs and looked prepared to lead the way out of the enclave. Near to the launch site Hadrhune was coaxing the shadow dragon Delethyrsos toward the edge of the landing platform, a strap of shadowy reins clenched in one black hand, and a group of attendants had gathered around Soleil as the weakened mountebank attempted to climb into the saddle of her mount, a rare beast from the Plane of Shadow called a darksteed. The shadow-swathed pegasus stretched its wings luxuriously as Soleil stroked its ebony mane; her face had grown ashen again.

The First Prince left his younger twin brothers to discuss the journey excitedly with Brennus, wasting no time in approaching Soleil. He ran a hand down the darksteed's flank, calming the proud beast as he fixed the half elf with a plaintive gaze.

"Will you not reconsider?" he asked softly, and Soleil managed a sigh.

"I must protect your brothers," she recited tiredly, accepting the black reins from one of her attendants and waving the slave away negligently. "Would you have me remain here and allow one of them to suffer a fate like mine?"

"I would have you exercise a little more caution and care for your own well being when necessity and common sense calls for you to do so," corrected Escanor. "I cannot accompany you away from here – the High Prince has requested that I carry the proposal of alliance of Thultanthar to Waterdeep when negotiations begin. How will I protect you when we are apart?"

Soleil's eyes softened almost imperceptibly, but she shook her head. "It is not your responsibility to protect me, Prince Escanor."

The First Prince threw caution to the winds and laid one of his hands over her own – the mountebank's lips parted in surprise, and her eyes became molten pools of buttery sunshine. Escanor tightened his fingers around hers and growled intensely, "I made you a promise. I vowed to protect you."

All around them veserabs bearing Shadovar warriors and arcanists were taking wing, spiraling away from the City of Shade and into the grueling sunshine baking the Anauroch desert. Soleil and Escanor only managed to tear their eyes away from one another when Hadrhune called out to her, his dragon's wings beating impatiently and stirring the encroaching shadows. Soleil withdrew her hand – reluctantly, it seemed to Escanor – and took up the reins.

"Better my body be slain," said Soleil, stubborn and resolute, "than that of the High Prince's kin. This is my purpose – the reason the Most High gifted me with such remarkable power at all."

She spurred her darksteed forward, and drawing level with Hadrhune and Delethysos they plunged together into the blistering sunshine and toward the rest of the soaring Shadovar; Escanor watched them go with an unfamiliar sensation of emptiness deep within his chest.

* * *

High Prince Telamont waited until the excavating party had departed the enclave before he condescended to meet with his final guest for the day, the mute drow known to most as Specter. He took his seat upon his high backed onyx throne and crooked a finger in no direction in particular, and the ghostwalker was suddenly before him as though he had been there all the time.

"You spoke with our mutual friend Phendrana?" asked the High Prince, and the rogue drow bowed low before lifting his hands before him to reply.

_I have kept a watchful eye on him since his curious sojourn to the city of Manifest,_ Specter explained using the intricate gestures of the drow sign language. _Though his friends are suspicious of his so-called 'visions', as well as his insistence that he has seen me on numerous occasions when no one else has, they have all agreed to accompany him into the Anauroch Desert._

Telamont nodded his approval, though his face was still stern and his expression calculating. "And you will see to it that he finds his way to the ruins near the Mines of Tethyamar?"

_Yes, My Lord. They will be departing Manifest shortly – I will lead them in your direction. It is likely that, when they reach the mining area, they will need little guidance from me._

"And the phaerimm?" It was clear from the High Prince's tone of voice that he was not in the mood for idle chatter, and so Specter wisely bit back his characteristic jests and riddles in favor of a more straightforward approach; after all, angering the High Prince of Thultanthar was never a wise decision.

_Based on First Prince Escanor's guesstimate of just how many phaerimm escaped the onslaught he led at Shadowdale, I have determined that the phaerimm currently closing in on Tethyamar are likely the very same group. Their numbers have dwindled a bit over the past tenday, but that is to be expected… A combination of cannibalism and the harshness of their surroundings most likely put a handful of them down._ He hesitated for a moment, considering just how much to share (for the head of the Tanthul family seemed particularly irate for whatever reason), and finally added, _Their minds are mutinous… They will be vicious adversaries when battle joins, as I am certain it will_.

Telamont settled back, hardly seeming concerned. "Let them rain their ferocity down upon the excavation party, for it will gain them nothing. Clariburnus is the commanding officer of the Army of Shade, and the most renown warrior Thultanthar has ever known; Brennus will defend the Nether Scroll with all that he has to give, and Hadrhune's perpetual hatred for all races that are non-Shadovar will keep the phaerimm from gaining the upper hand. I am more interested in seeing how Phendrana will respond to the situation – that is to say, if he is forced to choose a side, who will he lend his talents to, I wonder?"

Specter bobbed his head agreeably, though truthfully he cared little for the events unfolding between the High Prince of the City of Shade and the brilliant doppelganger – not that he would ever admit that the Telamont. _May I ask why the sudden interest in Phendrana, High Prince?_

He was certain, in that moment, that the High Prince smiled as though he found the inquiry absurd. "Come now – you know that I am a collector, and that my most coveted pieces are individuals with eclectic talents and raw, unshaped abilities. Consider both Hadrhune and Soleil, whom I have long considered my most valuable prizes; was Hadrhune not a naïve little elf who knew far too much for his own good once? Was Soleil not a renegade and a thief, before I molded her will and interests to better suit my own agenda? Phendrana is of obscure stock, and his mind is sharper than any I have ever come into contact with – even that of my youngest son Brennus, who is renown throughout the enclave as a child prodigy with superior intellect. And if I have my way, Phendrana will one day serve as my newest acquisition."

Specter took that as his cue to leave, and bent at the waist without quite exposing the back of his neck to his temporary employer. _Understood. I will see to it._

"Yes, do. I like you, Valnar. I would hate for this little arrangement of ours to turn sour."


	7. Seven - As Fate Would Have It

Seven: As Fate Would Have It…

Soleil glared disapprovingly up at Fifth Prince Clariburnus, though the mountebank didn't appear even mildly intimidating, swaddled as she was in a richly-woven Netherese quilt and propped up in bed upon a mound of tasseled pillows. "I do not approve of this treatment."

"You protest to being well cared for when clearly that is precisely what you need? You would prefer it, perhaps, if I mistreated you?" Clariburnus snickered and moved for the door of the one room abode that served as Soleil's private quarters within the boundaries of the excavation site. "You are a curious sort indeed – generally your gender rather enjoys being pampered, do they not?"

"That isn't at all what I mean, Prince Clariburnus, and you know it." Soleil did not look at all amused, though her displeasure only made Telamont's son chuckle beneath his breath. "Reports of phaerimm about the area and Phendrana's lot drawing nearer to our position? Weakened or not I should be out there, in full battle raiment, ready to protect you and Prince Brennus at the first sign of danger! Why have you confined me to this room for these last five days? Clearly I am not on my deathbed!"

"Because I, unlike you, know the importance of obeying those above my station. Prince Escanor charged Brennus and I with tending to your safety, and I intend to honor his wish."

Clariburnus managed to pull the door open, but Soleil's voice accosted him before he could take his leave. "You know I will leave at the first sign of trouble, so that I might offer to you my support."

"Then I will be certain to explain to my brother that your death was your own doing," assured the Fifth Prince matter of factly, though his face was quite stern when he spoke, and he exited without another word.

Soleil slumped back against the mound of pillows, her scowl deepening, praying the search for the lost scroll of Netheril continued to be uneventful.

* * *

_What do you see?_ came Aidan's steely voice, a whisper in Phendrana's hyper-aware mind, the only means of communication they had deemed safe enough to use.

Phendrana paused, flattened against the side of what on the outside appeared to be slaves' barracks, one hand upon the hilt of his thinblade. Trusting to the unexplainable intuition of the strange drow who called himself Specter they had come within a few miles of some kind of digging operation in the middle of Anauroch. As unwilling as always to put all of his friends in danger, Phendrana had proposed to venture into the camp to better gauge what Specter was leading them into; predictably there had ensued an uproar, until at last Aidan had volunteered to accompany the doppelganger into the campsite. Now at last they had reached the first of several one room constructs that seemed to be lining the western edge of the excavation site; unsure of what they were getting into, Aidan and Phendrana had decided to examine the abodes first.

Moving cautiously despite his invisible state, Phendrana peeked into the nearest window. As he had suspected the room within the construct was a simple slaves' barracks, furnished with little more than bunks for workers and a few shelves for supplies. There was little within the room that alluded to the race that inhabited the abode.

_Slaves' quarters,_ Phendrana told Aidan. _There is currently no one residing here, so I cannot tell who we are dealing with._

_Should we move on?_ Aidan questioned. _I do not like the idea of lingering too long._

The mindmaster considered, probing the nearby area with his considerable mental influence, searching for any voices he might recognize among the almost-constant chatter of subconscious thoughts. They needed to pinpoint a few nearby excavation workers if they were going to make any progress; Phendrana hadn't survived so long, against such impossible odds, by underestimating his adversaries. _Let us move ahead and investigate the next closest abode, but stay alert. You know as well as I do that Specter would never have led us here if it didn't involve the Shadovar._

He could not see Aidan, of course, as she was similarly invisible, but Phendrana did feel the tiefling's acquiescence and so shrank away from the wall of the barracks and moved toward the next nearest building.

It was swift going – there were very few people moving about the western side of the encampment, as most of the activity seemed to be near the dig site – so it did not take long at all for Phendrana and Aidan to sneak through the living quarters. The next construct was another slaves' barracks, the third a well-stocked but simple mess hall, and the fourth quite different than any other room Phendrana had yet visited. It was lavishly furnished with elegant rugs, ancient maps of faraway lands, and great tomes written in many different tongues, but it was not the out of place finery that set Phendrana on edge. It was the unmistakably familiar woman sleeping fitfully in the only bed in the room.

Phendrana could not immediately answer Aidan when she asked what he glimpsed though the abode's only window; it was one thing for his tight-knit circle of companions to accept the fact that the voices of six long dead heroes resided within the caverns of his complex mind, but could he truthfully expect them to believe that the woman whom he had glimpsed in a hallucination was alive and well, and here before them? For that, of course, was how Phendrana now considered the self-proclaimed protector of the ruling family of Shade – she was the one who had suffered the terrible fate of taking on a phaerimm egg, while Phendrana himself had merely looked on helplessly.

He took the opportunity to study her, taking note of the pale greenish tinge that lingered yet upon her skin and the faint waxy, sunken nature of her cheeks. Being a creature who believed in the inherent goodness within everyone, Phendrana found it easy to admire her selfless act of sacrifice and found that he was relieved to find her alive and on the mend. Relief, however, was not enough to temper Phendrana's good sense.

_Aidan, it's her. The one who nearly killed Aust back in the Frostfell… the woman who risked her life to save one of the princes of Shade. She is slumbering within this room._

_You are certain?_ Aidan, though devoted wholeheartedly to Phendrana and his cause, could not completely sublimate the skepticism in her voice.

_Beyond any doubt, _growled Phendrana defensively, a little more so than he had intended. _If she is here, that can only mean that this excavation site is the work of the Shadovar. If she is here… who knows who else is?_

_What does that mean?_ asked Aidan gravely.

Phendrana heaved a sigh. _It means that I have made a grave mistake, allowing you to accompany me… or for leading us here at all. It means that we must consider our next move very carefully before we continue._

* * *

"You are pleased with the days' events." This was not a question, given that Clariburnus laughed heartily and cuffed his younger brother upon the shoulder joyously as he said it, and Brennus couldn't help but beam with pride in response. Five days in the harsh Anauroch deserts, driving the slaves to dig round the clock even despite the grueling heat, had at last yielded an irreplaceable treasure worth celebrating: one of the lost scrolls of ancient Netheril, now bound in a protective casing and clenched almost possessively in Brennus's hand.

"Were I to rule over all of Toril as the most prominent historian known to the Realms, I could not be more pleased," Brennus assured. "Though I, like you and all the rest of our brothers, inherited ambition from the Most High. Perhaps that is why, despite this treasured find, I ordered the workers to keep digging."

This, Clariburnus noticed, was clearly true: all throughout the sunken library Brennus had uncovered beneath the northernmost ruins of the excavation site Shadovar slaves were toiling about with brushes and other fine tools. The two princes observed the situation from beneath the canopy of a resting tent, where they could safely converse without becoming fatigued by the sun. "Do you think there is more to be found?"

Brennus shrugged. "Perhaps, but I doubt it. There is no evidence to suggest that this settlement had Netherese roots at all – it is likely that it was founded by one of the many desert-faring peoples of Anauroch, and that one of their mages claimed the scroll for his own. Of course, it is always better to be thorough and leave nothing to chance, particularly where the Most High is concerned." Then, seemingly as an afterthought, he added, "How fares Soleil?"

"She is stubborn, but I persuaded her to lie in. Prince Escanor would have both our heads if he ever learned she was doing otherwise." Clariburnus sighed and moved for the opposite end of the tent. "Thus far my workers have uncovered very little of practical use from their labors within the collapsed coliseum – nevertheless, I should see to it."

"Then I wish you luck," said Brennus, still grinning shamelessly with the scroll clutched safely at his side.

* * *

For the sixth time since sunrise Alvaro Rosalles wandered out of the safe house their unorthodox drow guide had provided, squinting through the stinging veil of whirling sand to the east. Inevitably his right hand fell upon his left, whereupon it began worriedly twisting the platinum ring upon his index finger.

How was he to know when to use the ring, to enact the connection that would enable him to share his beloved's pain? Phendrana was out of sight, perhaps, but never out of mind; the band, at least, forever bound them to one another. Rosalles had watched Phendrana bear unthinkable torments merely to lessen the severity of agony he, Rosalles, would suffer, and the doppelganger did it all without so much as wincing. Rosalles fully intended to pay his lover back in kind, but how would he ever know if Phendrana needed aid when the mindmaster was miles away?

Rosalles raised one hand to shield his eyes from the glaring sun, hoping to catch a glimpse of the excavation site, and in doing so he spotted several black, shapeless creatures riding the thermal waves high into the sky.

He presumed they were birds – carrion eaters, perhaps – and did not withdraw into the safe house or pay the soaring creatures further heed.

* * *

The seneschal Hadrhune knew that the human pet that belonged to Phendrana could not see him clearly – but the eyes of a shade were much keener, even in the cruel glare of a midsummer's day, so he could see Alvaro Rosalles perfectly. With a simple wave of one shadowy hand he bade the small contingent of shadow riders to continue patrolling the skies as normal, then angled Delethyrsos sharply to the right and dipped suddenly into a dive.

Toward the safe house.

* * *

Rosalles, lost as he was in his musings, did not realize he was no longer alone until he cocked his head to one side and noticed, with a jolt, that Specter was standing at his side barely an inch away. As it always did, the uncomfortably close proximity of the dark elf made Rosalles practically leap away – or would have, if Specter had not darted out with one impossibly fast hand and clamped down upon Rosalles's arm so hard that the seafaring mercenary almost cried out. The strange, almost shapeless mask was turned his direction, somehow portraying anxiety despite its emotionless features, and Specter's other hand stabbed toward the sky.

Glancing up, Rosalles could just make out the darkened dimensions of a sinister winged creature growing ever nearer, bearing a single rider upon its back.

Specter's hands flashed simultaneously, dexterous fingers working through an intricately complex pattern that, were he versed in drow sign language, Rosalles would have easily interpreted as, _Scamper off, little sailor, before the shady man arrives!_ As it was, Rosalles merely stared back, slack-jawed with disbelief and horror. Impatient, Specter seized a handful of the front of the mercenary's silken shirt and shoved Rosalles none-too-gently into the magical lodging.

For though he had agreed to ensure that Phendrana crossed paths with the Shadovar, Specter had made no vows where the seneschal Hadrhune was concerned – and if he was prepared to be perfectly honest, Specter really did loathe the High Prince's chosen emissary and desired nothing more than to oppose him at every turn.

The very instant the door shut Specter watched as the safe house began to rapidly shrink, tilting his head amusedly when the entire structure was barely the size of a copper piece; when it stopped shrinking, barely a nugget of sepia amongst the endless sea of amber grains of sand, the drow bent double to pluck it up between his thumb and forefinger and dropped it neatly into a breast pocket of his seemingly nondescript vest. By the time he had managed to straighten up the shadow dragon had landed scarcely twenty feet away; a black-cloaked shade was just dismounting, a cruel black staff clenched in one hand and twin eyes of amber glaring out from the darkness of his face.

It was a very rare occasion when Hadrhune felt surprised and rarer still when he felt caught off guard, but as he slipped smoothly from the saddle of his shadow dragon mount he just didn't know what to make of the curious man standing there before him. He was clad in very strange attire – simple gray garb, rags really, and a mask that was neither ornate nor interesting; he carried not a single weapon upon his person, but most noticeably he showed not even an inch of bare flesh, making it impossible for the seneschal to discern his opponent's race. Nevertheless he had a duty to uphold for High Prince Telamont, and this curious creature was hardly enough to interfere.

"If you value your life, I suggest that you depart from here at once," warned Hadrhune coldly, his tone clearly suggesting that he was prepared to use force if necessary.

His quarry set him back on his heels momentarily when he lifted his hands and replied, in very clear drow sign language, _Perhaps I do not understand the scale upon which one might measure the worth of one's existence._

Hadrhune blinked slowly, confusedly. "Are you not a companion of the doppelganger Phendrana?"

_What a pretty name! _professed the masked man, his hands caressing each word with unnecessary love and emphasis. _Though being a doppelganger, what makes you so certain that I am not this Phendrana you seek, taking on an unorthodox but elaborate disguise?_

Hadrhune's jaw tightened, annoyed with the man's frivolity, but could not form an answer right away. Finally he scoffed, "A man like Phendrana, as far as I am aware, would not see the value of foolish disguises or meaningless jests."

_If he is as clever as you say, perhaps he does._

Hadrhune had never been known for his patience – his eyes narrowed, looking more and more hostile every minute. Specter did not miss the subtle shifting of Hadrhune's posture as he brought the staff up into both hands and said, "Do you know what I think? I think that you are little more than an annoyance, to me and to the Most High, and that these affairs are beyond you. You have wasted my time."

Specter sensed, for barely a moment, the ominous presence of something lurking behind him, before a shadowy longsword pierced through his back and tore through his chest. Hadrhune watched, as detached as ever, as the masked drow crumbled for the ground and began to bleed out before him, face down and motionless in the sand. Irritated that he had wasted ten minutes with a vagabond who was not at all linked to Phendrana and his band of adventurers, Hadrhune stalked back to his shadow dragon and took wing, heading back toward the excavation site.

* * *

When the shade and his dragon were long since departed the ghostwalker stirred, sitting up and gazing with rapt fascination at his blood staining the sand. Had the shade been paying very close attention he would have observed that his stroke, sure as it was, had not produced nearly as much spilt blood as it should have.

Then again, Specter considered with a wry smile, most opponents were incapable of stopping their hearts and feigning death quite as successfully as he could.

He retrieved the magically shrunken safe house – within which he was certain Phendrana's friends were waiting quite confusedly – from his pocket, and by the time the structure had returned to its normal size Specter's would-be fatal wound had already healed.

* * *

_What are they trying to accomplish here?_ asked Aidan tremulously, but Phendrana wasn't certain he had the answer for her.

The pair had worked their way through the entire western edge of the encampment – which, they knew now, was mostly constituted of various living facilities – and at least reached what seemed to be the focus of the Shadovar's excavation site. The place they were perusing now appeared to be a long-collapsed arena of some kind, around which all manner of Shadovar workers were swarming, hard at work; Phendrana, attentive of even the most seemingly insignificant details, did not recognize any of the men and women around them, but easily determined the individual in charge of the operation.

_There._ Phendrana used his mental influence to guide Aidan's attentions to the man in question, one of the only shades among the group; he wore the finest armor of any of them, and had an enchanted glaive strapped to his back. _He looks a great deal like the prince whose acquaintance we made in the Frostfell Manor… Perhaps they are related?_

_Another of the Most High's many princes? _Aidan suggested.

_A safe assumption to make,_ agreed the doppelganger, _but that does not explain why the Shadovar are here, or what they are searching for._

Aidan stayed quiet, giving Phendrana an opportunity to mull over the scenario without interruption. Still uncertain of the level of Shadovar involvement and growing discouraged with the lack of information they had gathered, Phendrana was just considering using his mindmaster abilities to infiltrate the shade's mind when all hell broke loose.

A series of popping noises struck up behind them, followed by a chorus of unearthly high-pitched howls, and Aidan audibly cried out; turning back the way they had come Phendrana glimpsed a horde of phaerimm scuttling over the crest in the sand that separated the living facilities from the collapsed coliseum in which the Shadovar were working. The leading phaerimm let out a shriek that Phendrana was certain carried the weight of a spell, but before he could warn his companion the aberration's roar had rolled over them.

Dismissing their invisibility.

Phendrana glanced back feverishly over his shoulder, locking eyes with the glaive-wielding shade he had determined to be the Shadovar's leader; the shade matched his wild-eyed gaze for a moment, clearly shocked, before shifting his focus to the phaerimm charging down the hill.

"Aidan!" cried Phendrana. "Run!"

Trapped between an armed contingent of Shadovar warriors and a horde of rampaging phaerimm, Aidan could only ask, "Where?!"

* * *

As deep in slumber as she was, Soleil still felt her empathetic link to the Tanthul family tug at her subconscious when Fifth Prince Clariburnus called his warriors to arms against a group of charging phaerimm. Growing more and more alert with each passing moment the mountebank flung the quilt away and stumbled toward the door to her private quarters, belting her falchion upon her hip and praying she could find the strength just to keep from collapsing.

* * *

Phendrana exploded into motion, transforming from his natural doppelganger body even as he turned and sprinted in Aidan's direction; by the time he reached the tiefling he had taken on the likeness of elemental savant Ristel Clearsea, and seizing Aidan by the wrist he threw her over his shoulder with hardly an effort. The sand at his feet transformed into a sheet of solid ice and stretched on ahead across the dunes, and with surprising grace Ristel skated effortlessly onward.

They might have escaped, had another group of phaerimm not come skittering over the rolling sand hills ahead of them; as it was the water genasi attempted to turn back, but found that way similarly blocked by a group of Shadovar arcanists led by none other than Twelfth Prince Brennus. Ristel slid to a stop upon the conjured ice pathway and set Aidan right side up beside him as all around both phaerimm and Shadovar closed upon their position, battling one another for every inch. The new contingent of phaerimm veered suddenly, moving to intercept the Shadovar now rushing out of the slaves' barracks; there was nowhere else to go, Phendrana knew, but through the thickening ranks.

"Aidan, listen to every word I say very carefully," pleaded Phendrana, and turning to regard him Aidan noticed that Phendrana had taken on his natural form again. "I am going to create an opening for you – when your way is clear, run away and do not look back. Return to the safe house where we left Alvaro and the others and rouse them into retreat. Make for the east with all haste and do not rest until you have reached the forest. Do you understand me?"

"Phendrana – " the tiefling began to protest vehemently, but the mindmaster wasn't listening. With the vicious phaerimm closing in all around them Phendrana tapped into the wellspring of mental energies he possessed, fueling the act with his desperation, and when their enemies were about to overwhelm them Phendrana let loose.

The wave of psychic energy pulsed from the doppelganger's body and erupted outward as an iridescent sphere in all directions, bowling the phaerimm over with its overwhelming force. Aidan watched with a combination of terror and awe as the wicked aberrations collapsed, twitching uncontrollably, until Phendrana growled a reminder and the tiefling dashed off across the sand. Phendrana's psychic blast continued to widen out, rolling over each phaerimm it touched and incapacitating every single one with its power –

But the doppelganger, so confident in his abilities, had underestimated the might of the phaerimm.

Despite their apparent agony the downed aberrations clambered upright in a wave and continued to scuttle toward enemies in all directions – the glaive-wielding shade commanding a company of Shadovar warriors and the cultured-looking prince he knew as Brennus, most notably – some limping, some very obviously crippled, but every single one of them very alive and even more dangerous.

Phendrana squared his shoulders and broadened his stance, preparing to strike again even as a voice he only vaguely recognized resonated throughout his mind: _You mustn't! You haven't the strength! _But again he chose not to listen, for he had already retreated deep within his subconscious mind and into the untapped mental energies that he only seldom used. For a split second his six companions could be seen surrounding him, taking on defensive postures against the oncoming phaerimm, and then Phendrana's second wave of pure psychic energy laid the horrid creatures low. And as scores of phaerimm fell dead upon Anauroch's sands Phendrana fled toward the eastern horizon, mental fatigue already setting in and clouding his vision, stealing his focus, sapping him of all reason that remained.

* * *

Cresting the last golden sand dune and veritably panting with exhaustion, Soleil gazed down upon the doppelganger's blind, almost thoughtless destruction with wonder in her eyes – but only for a moment, for in the next instant she had swooned forward. Clariburnus, barely three paces away, managed to catch her before she hit the ground and ease her into a far gentler landing.

"Be at peace," he told her, even as Brennus approached at a jog. "The phaerimm have already been dispatched – and by the doppelganger of whom the Most High speaks, no less."

"His powers of the mind are unparalleled," Brennus observed, his tone quiet and thoughtful. "I attempted to warn him against his course of action, for I sensed that his strength was fast waning, but he chose not to heed me." He squinted against the sun's harsh rays and shielded his eyes against the glare, scouring the eastern horizon for any sign of the doppelganger, but there wasn't one. "I do hope he doesn't encounter any more resistance while he attempts to flee… I daresay he hasn't the strength to muster yet another attack of such magnitude."

Soleil's eyes fluttered wildly as she returned to consciousness; something about what the loremaster had said seemed to trigger a strong reaction in Soleil, for as soon as she was able she pushed herself into a sitting position stubbornly. "Let me go to him."

"Don't be absurd!" Clariburnus began to protest, but the mountebank shook her head vigorously and would hear no more.

"Don't you see? It is the right thing to do. I was the one who attacked Phendrana's companion in the Frostfell – the stroke nearly cost the man his life, and how does the doppelganger repay us? He eliminates a horde of our most hated enemies – creatures that would have cost dozens of Shadovar their lives had he not intervened. I should be the one to confront him." She stumbled into a standing position, her face pale yet determined, and finished, "It is what the Most High would want."

Before either of Telamont's sons could protest any further Soleil had run one finger over the glittering stones set in her jet band and moved through a self-imposed tear in reality; Clariburnus and Brennus dissolved immediately into the sand, moving through the safety of the Shadow Realm after her but fully aware they could not catch up.

* * *

Aidan had just succeeded in herding the others out of the magical cabin and was angling them toward the eastern horizon when Phendrana limped over the nearest sand dune and stumbled toward them, and though the others rejoiced at the sight of him the tiefling was shrewd enough to recognize the fear he struggled to keep from showing through in his expression.

"Phendrana!" cried Rosalles, the tension easing out of his face the moment he set eyes upon the doppelganger. "Thank the Gods, Aidan was just telling us to make haste without you – "

The rest of Rosalles's words died upon his tongue as Phendrana drew nearer, and Ivy even gasped aloud; the mindmaster's pallor was an unhealthy white-gray color, sweat was heavily beaded upon his brow, and his breath came in short, labored gasps. Rosalles took hold of Phendrana's arms in concern and was frightened to find the doppelganger was trembling.

"What has happened?!" asked Ivy in her tinny, excitable voice.

"Do not concern yourself with me," insisted Phendrana, his voice betraying his obvious exhaustion. "Everything is well in hand and you needn't be worried for me. It is necessary that you press on east, though, and without delay. Merely as a precaution, of course."

He attempted to smile disarmingly at Rosalles, but grimaced instead when a sharp stab of pain lanced through his mind; mental fatigue was intensifying, making his every thought a chore. The mercenary captain regarded him now with open panic.

"You are not joining us?!" clarified Aust hotly, clearly displeased with the prospect.

Phendrana shook his head once and immediately regretted it, as his vision exploded into white-hot stars. "I cannot. I must remain here to thwart pursuit."

"Pursuit?!" squeaked Ivy.

But they came to understand quickly enough, for in that moment a figure appeared upon the crest of a sand dune barely half a mile away. Aidan and Specter immediately began ushering the others inside the enchanted construct, Phendrana sluggishly bringing up the rear.

There was a window in the northeastern corner of the safe house; Aidan led the way toward it, pushing the glass pane outward and vaulting the frame easily. Ivy gave a squeal when one of the tiefling's hands plunged back inside and tugged the halfling out by a fistful of her vest, and Aust followed suit with a hard look on his face. Specter clapped a hand down upon Rosalles's shoulder, but the mercenary commander turned back to regard Phendrana desperately. "Come with us. We will protect you… we would never leave you behind."

Phendrana forced a smile. "Precisely why I must stay and occupy our pursuers. I am weakened and I will only slow you down; if you attempted to protect me, you would likely be placing yourself in more danger."

Rosalles's eyes were despaired and glistening. "When will I see you?"

Instead of answering outright Phendrana seized Rosalles's face and drew him into a rough kiss, his mouth lingering far longer than he would have generally allowed in the presence of others. Would he see his lover again? He could never hope to fight off an emissary from the City of Shade in his current state, his mind functioning so sluggishly that he could barely continue a simple train of thought. Was this the site of his final stand?

Specter prudently increased the pressure of his hand upon Rosalles's shoulder and pried the pair apart, shoving the mercenary behind him, out the window, and into Aidan's arms. The drow's hands flashed, frantic and rushed, through his parting words. _An admirable decision. You have my word that your friends will reach the forest unharmed._

Phendrana caught Specter by the forearm. _Keep Alvaro in your sights. He will attempt to aid me in whatever way possible, even if it places him in harm's way. Protect him._

_With my life,_ assured the ghostwalker, in as serious a voice as Phendrana had ever heard him use, and then Specter had withdrawn his arm and melted out the window with the others. Putting his back to the window Phendrana moved slowly to the door, each step leaden, his breath nearly a wheeze.

Outside he came face to face with not one of the princes of Shade as he had expected, but with the woman Specter had shown him in his dreams – Soleil Chemaut. She stood several yards from the construct – which vanished the moment Phendrana exited – looking dangerously pale and far too gaunt in her richly-emblazoned Netherese armor. Her falchion, he noticed with curiosity, was sheathed upon her hip, so Phendrana wisely and gratefully left his weapons where they were. For a moment, the only sound was the harsh desert wind howling in his ears.

"Now would seem a poor time for us to take up arms against one another," observed Phendrana weakly, struggling to keep his knees from trembling. "I am in no condition to do battle, owing to the fact that I recently expended all of my energy keeping phaerimm at bay, and you are recovering from a near fatal injury."

Soleil did not deny Phendrana's claims or even ask how he had come by his information. Instead she studied him intently for a moment, the intensity of her gaze almost unnerving, and then said, "It is good, then, that I have not come to fight you."

Phendrana could not quite stifle his surprise. "You haven't?"

"No, I haven't." Soleil's lips twitched into an expression that was part smile, part grimace. "As you have said, it would be foolish for us to cross blades now, of all times."

Phendrana was beginning to feel light-headed. "If we are only going to converse, might I sit?"

"Only if you will allow me the same luxury." Soleil's voice grew feeble, her face suddenly tired.

They started toward one another with slow, exaggerated movements, and when they were only a few feet apart they both crumpled to the ground facing one another. When Phendrana could muster the strength to raise his head it was to find the mountebank watching him still, though her sunshine-yellow eyes had lost some of their intensity even in the last thirty seconds. Mundane actions were taxing upon her too, Phendrana supposed, and with that realization came the trust that Soleil hadn't come to confront him in a hostile way at all.

"I came here to thank you," Soleil told him evenly, not a trace of sarcasm in her voice and at this declaration several of the residents within the doppelganger's mind raised their voices in skepticism.

_You can't possibly believe such a claim! _scoffed Alax incredulously. _This woman is not only an associate of our pursuers from Thultanthar, but she nearly claimed Aust's life just weeks ago! Do not believe a word she says, Phendrana!_

_No good can possibly come from trusting the mountebank of a man with evil intentions,_ added Vadania sternly.

Looking at Soleil, though, Phendrana wasn't so sure. Under normal circumstances he would most certainly have taken Alax and Vadania's words to heart, but the memory of Soleil's actions during the Shadovar's battle against the phaerimm at Shadowdale lingered fresh within Phendrana's thoughts. He had never known a mere inferior to sacrifice his life for the safety of a superior, nor, for that matter, had he ever seen the superior attack in such vengeance when the inferior was struck down. Greater forces were at work here, stronger allegiances by far than mere noble and commoner, prince and subordinate, and he was determined to cast those unseen ties into greater focus. Phendrana leaned closer, the look of an interrogator apparent in his face despite his weariness. "And what have I done that should merit any thanks from you? This is our first formal meeting. You hardly know of me."

"Your actions back at the encampment were both valorous and unexpected," Soleil pointed out, her jet-black hair whipping about her face. "Whether or not it was your intention, you saved the lives of dozens of Shadovar – loyal warriors, who have served the Most High for many years. We are in your debt."

As the mountebank finished, two shadow-swathed figures melted out of a nearby sand dune and solidified into the likenesses of two men – Fifth Prince Clariburnus, his enchanted glaive strapped along his back now, and Twelfth Prince Brennus, still clutching the lost scroll of Netheril possessively in his hands. They looked on curiously at the pair seated in the sand, Phendrana noticed, but otherwise kept their distance.

Phendrana cocked his head in their direction. "We?"'

"The Princes of Shade are not barbarians," Soleil answered without pause. "Nor are they tyrants. They respect and value those that fight on their behalf."

"Are you the well-wisher of the Most High, then?" inquired Phendrana, with more than a little skepticism in his voice.

Soleil smirked. "Hardly. To be frank, I used to be rather like you. I was very self assured in my own skills and warred openly against the City of Shade and all who claimed to be an affiliate of the place. In the end it was the Most High's kindness and generosity that opened my eyes to the truth of the world, of the lies Faerun has spun against Thultanthar and the Tanthul family's struggle to re-establish their city to its former glory, to secure a place for the true and rightful descendents of ancient Netheril."

Phendrana managed to lift his head and fix Soleil with a penetrating gaze characteristic of the elusive mindmasters, and said, "But of course you will tell me such things. You are an emissary of Shade. It is to be expected that you would share with me the brightest side of the place."

"Do you know what I am, Phendrana?" asked the half elf sincerely, her sunshine-yellow eyes boring just as intensely back into his. "I am a mountebank – the chosen extension of the Most High by way of a rare rite called the Spirit Ceremony. In this ritual I willingly bequeathed my own soul to him; many stipulations and benefits accompany such proceedings, but perhaps foremost among them all is this – about the owner of my soul, I cannot lie."

"Then tell me truthfully," Phendrana began, making the snap decision to question her before the opportunity passed. "Was my vision truth, or a falsity conjured by agents of Thultanthar? Did you throw yourself in front of a phaerimm's tail and take the aberration's egg into your body willingly?"

Soleil cocked her head to one side, her eyes narrowed into slits of suspicion. "I'm not sure how you could possibly know such a thing, but yes, it happened – perhaps a tenday ago. We tracked the phaerimm to the ruins of Shadowdale, where they were deeply entrenched and breeding at an unprecedented rate – the phaerimm are the most hated enemies of Thultanthar. We could not stand idly by and allow such rampant reproduction of the species, when those unchecked numbers may have become a threat to the city."

"And the man you risked your life for?"

"First Prince Escanor Tanthul," Soleil answered quietly, and though her voice was barely audible it was saturated with emotion. "The eldest of the High Prince's sons."

Phendrana was nodding along with deep fascination, and though he had many others questions to present to her it seemed that they would have to wait; the two shade princes were descending the sand dune toward them now, the harsh winds whipping at their clothing and scattering shadow particles in their wake. Soleil took her feet with more than a little difficulty – a gesture of obeisance, the doppelganger supposed – but even as she took her first step toward them the shade that carried the glaive put out a hand to keep the mountebank from falling. He set his silver eyes upon Phendrana when he was assured that Soleil was steady enough to support her own weight, and the doppelganger couldn't help the feeling of anxiety that washed over him.

"Oh behalf of Most High Telamont of Thultanthar, allow me to extend my deepest and most sincere gratitude," he greeted Phendrana, in a tone that was cordial yet stern and somehow guarded. "I am Clariburnus, Fifth Prince of Shade." Clariburnus did not wait for Phendrana to formally introduce himself, though because he was not interested or because he hadn't the time for idle chatter the doppelganger could not immediately determine. "We would not have chosen to interfere were it not for my brother, who has a proposition to put to you."

Phendrana felt that he should stand in a show of respect, if only because he worried for his own safety if he were to insult them. Soleil and Clariburnus were looking to the prince that Phendrana remembered from their brief journey to the Frostfell Manor, the one with the curiously intelligent, handsome face and the bronze eyes who called himself Brennus. His words must have been unexpected even by his comrades, who gaped at him mutinously when they heard what he had to say.

"If you are intrigued by all that you have heard," Brennus began conspiratorially, "and you wish to see the truth of Soleil's words for yourself, see that you arrive at Waterdeep Tower three days from now, at high noon. I will see to it that your presence is expected, as well as the attendance of your friends, and I can personally guarantee that the journey will be worth your while."

Before Phendrana could muster up a response, a large shadow fell upon their group; glancing up he took note of the colossal shadow dragon circling not far overhead, and the shade perched upon its back coaxing it into a landing. If Phendrana expected either Soleil or the two princes to receive their comrade in high spirits, though, he was very mistaken; in the moment after the dragon came to rest upon the shifting sands and the shade dismounted and made his way toward them, they regarded him with what could only be open hostility.

"You!" bellowed Clariburnus, and with one hand he guided Soleil gently into Brennus's outstretched arms. "What have you to say for yourself, Hadrhune?!"

The shadow sorcerer came up short, his darkstaff clutched in both hands almost defensively. "What can you mean, Prince Clariburnus? I have been patrolling the skies, as instructed. I came not long ago to waylay this doppelganger and his friends, but I was deceived by a curious creature in a mask and was not able to make contact with anyone. Has something happened in my absence?"

"I should say it has!" growled Clariburnus, and he swept one arm behind him in a grand gesture as though to indicate many things at once. "Dozens of phaerimm descended upon the excavation site, and were you anywhere nearby to combat them? No! We had to trust our fates into the hands of the doppelganger Phendrana – who had infiltrated the site quite beyond your notice, might I add, so well done there!"

"May I also add that Soleil is here, out of bed in her weakened state," Brennus put in acidly, "when the Most High commanded _you_ to see to her safety! What if some ill had befallen her? What if she had found herself in the thick of battle with barely the strength to stand – and rest assured, Hadrhune, that is precisely where she nearly landed herself today! Were you prepared to accept the Most High's wrath in the event that his mountebank's life was lost?"

Hadrhune lowered his gaze to the ground and said nothing in his own defense; Phendrana glanced up at Soleil, alarmed, until he took note of the tiny smirk the mountebank was doing her best to hide. Clariburnus glared at Hadrhune for a long moment, as though considering whether or not to punish the seneschal himself, before taking Soleil gently by the elbow and dissolving with her into his own shadow; Hadrhune looked beseechingly to Brennus, but the loremaster was adamant.

"Off with you," said the Twelfth Prince scathingly. "The judgment of the Most High awaits you – every moment you tarry, your sentence becomes ever more severe!"

While the shadow sorcerer was dejectedly clambering back into place aboard his shadow dragon, Phendrana dared to ask the prince a question. "What is in Waterdeep that so craves my attention, if I may be so bold as to ask?"

Brennus smiled briefly; his ceremonial fangs flashed almost blindingly in the harshness of the sun. "I will say only that Thultanthar has taken a great interest in the city of Waterdeep, and that the Most High will soon be sending a delegation chosen from his own council to negotiate certain diplomatic proceedings with the ruling body of that nation. It does not concern you, to be sure, but you may surprised by what you witness there. For now, though, I pray you excuse me. I have a delivery of no small importance to entrust into the High Prince's hands."

He clenched his fist victoriously around the protective casing that housed the Nether Scroll and vanished from sight, bound, no doubt, for the City of Shade; Phendrana watched him go, spellbound, questioning everything he had ever known.


	8. Eight - Reconsidering

Eight: Reconsidering

The shadow walk back to Shade Enclave was uneventful, for which Clariburnus was secretly grateful; though Soleil had plastered on her bravest face and was keeping pace with him as best she could, the Fifth Prince could sense her strength waning and feared for their safety in the rare event they encountered any manner of the odd shadow creatures that inhabited the Plane of Shadow. Here, in the deepest, most condensed recesses of the Shadow Realm, Soleil would be utterly irretrievable if she lost contact with him in her weakened state. When Clariburnus sensed more familiar surroundings he stepped through the almost tangible curtains of shadow and into the High Prince's audience chamber.

Through uncomprehending eyes Soleil caught a fleeting glimpse of Most High Telamont standing beside his high-backed onyx throne and several other shades gathered at the foot of the dias, and then Clariburnus released her and she stumbled into arms she immediately recognized as Prince Escanor's. Her fingers found precarious holds in the lines of his Netherese armor and he pulled her against him, his arms firm but not constricting, and Soleil at last allowed herself to relax.

"Welcome back," Telamont greeted, his voice sounding very far away to Soleil. "She is alright?"

"Only fatigued, Most High One," answered Brennus as he stepped from the trans-dimensional rift separating the Plane of Shadow from the High Prince's audience chamber, and Soleil felt Escanor's arms relax, heard his sharp exhale of relief. "She overexerted herself when the phaerimm came upon us."

Telamont must have been watching the events unfold through the world window, for he hardly seemed surprised to hear that the phaerimm had made an appearance at the excavation of Tethyamar. He waved a hand negligently in Escanor's direction, saying, "Take her home and see that she finds some rest. I have much to deal with now, and Soleil's health is not currently my priority."

Escanor didn't need telling twice; in a movement that seemed to cost the First Prince no effort at all Escanor whisked Soleil off her feet and into his arms. The moment the mountebank's head came to rest upon the prince's shoulder her vision began to darken, and Soleil slipped into delirium before Escanor had managed to take five strides.

"Resume your regular duties," the High Prince bade the rest of his sons, and they were all melting into the shadows stirring at the extreme edges of the audience chamber when Telamont added, "Brennus, stay a moment."

More than one set of bejeweled eyes lingered skeptically at Brennus's back as the youngest prince of Shade drifted into his customary place at the far right side of the dias leading up to Telamont's throne, but one by one they blended imperceptibly into their surroundings and returned to their various chores. Brennus awaited the Most High's judgment of his snap decision with his head slightly bowed and his curious bronze eyes fixed stoically upon the bottommost black marble stair.

He was not made to wait very long. "Waterdeep?"

The Twelfth Prince nodded once but did not lift his gaze. "Yes, Most High One."

Telamont reclaimed his seat, his platinum eyes practically boring holes into the loremaster's face; though he could feel the intensity of the glare Brennus did very well to keep his composure. The High Prince's voice was emotionless, adamant. "You did not consult me."

"No, Most High One," said Brennus agreeably, for there was little point in arguing; he did feel compelled to add, "there wasn't time."

The High Prince continued to study his youngest son quietly for quite some time, considering how best to proceed. He certainly didn't disapprove of Brennus's last-minute decision to include the doppelganger Phendrana and his companions in the negotiations with Waterdeep – quite the contrary, he was impressed with Brennus's foresight, not to mention his understanding of the delicate nature of the situation unfolding around the doppelganger. No, Telamont's hesitation was borne primarily from a desire to keep from facilitating such behavior – namely the carrying out of decisions of great importance without his express consent – on a regular basis. He balanced his chin upon one upturned palm and heaved a sigh before saying, "Your intuition has served you well in this case. I considered enlisting our drow friend Specter to lead them into Waterdeep in time to witness our dealings there, but a mind as sharp as Phendrana's will undoubtedly begin to become suspicious of him over time – if he has not already, that is. Phendrana will sense that Specter is an extension of Thultanthar and feel both threatened and used. This is something that I will not allow; Phendrana must be made to see the City of Shade in a favorable light, no matter the cost."

Brennus dared to look up then as he tentatively offered his opinion on the matter. "I agree, Most High One. I know how great a matter our dealings with Waterdeep have become to you, though I know also that you are not particularly optimistic on the situation. The Lords of Waterdeep have not been very kind to us in the past – as I recall Open Lord Paladinson himself once referred to Thultanthar as 'a plague upon the face of Faerun'."

"That he did," Telamont agreed somewhat begrudgingly, "shortly after our return from the Plane of Shadow. Your memory is keen; I, too, have not forgotten."

"And that is why I extended an invitation to Phendrana to attend our initial meeting with them," Brennus explained helpfully, at last daring to hope that perhaps he would escape this conversation without reprimand for his carelessness. "I am counting on their continued mistreatment of our society. I believe I am justified in assuming that their prejudice will not have been mystically cured over the passage of time."

Telamont dipped his head a fraction lower then, presumably to hide a flicker of a smile as it passed over his face, as he said, "Indeed you are, Brennus." Then he sat forward suddenly, his expression mirthless and his posture quite serious. "I have chosen to reward your judgment this time by allowing you to be an emissary of the delegation that will meet with the Lords of Waterdeep. The group that I have assembled to see to this great matter is formidable, but I believe that your insight and superior intellect - not to mention your uncanny ability to diffuse arising tension in nearly every situation of which you are part - will be of great use to them. Not to mention that Phendrana is becoming familiar with your face now, so your presence may be of a small comfort to him – doubtless he and his companions will be on high alert for this occasion."

Brennus bowed very low, secretly pleased with the way this encounter had played out. He had expected to return to Thultanthar and face a very serious reprimand, perhaps even with external consequences – instead he was being rewarded an emissary as part of the delegation to Waterdeep? "I will do my best to be an asset to you in this, High Prince. You honor me with your generosity."

"See that you do not give me cause to regret my decision," Telamont warned him in an icy voice, and though Brennus did not offer a verbal reply the Most High knew his son had received the message in earnest. It was at that moment that the double doors swung in and the cloaked and hooded seneschal Hadrhune entered, his every step wrathful, his right hand clenched furiously around the shaft of his great darkstaff; Telamont watched him approach, mildly amused at the obvious displeasure practically emanating from Hadrhune, and was barely surprised when the seneschal lost himself and addressed the High Prince out of turn.

"Most High One, I really must protest!" barked Hadrhune at once, jabbing one finger in Brennus's direction; the Twelfth Prince, still prostrated before the High Prince, allowed the ghost of a grin to flicker briefly across his face before rearranging his features into a more neutral expression. "You charged me with taking to the skies and keeping a look out for Phendrana and his companions, and I assure you I carried out your bidding to the best of my ability. I see no reason to endure the threats of both Brennus and Clariburnus that I would be incurring your displeasure upon my return!"

One of the shadows that seemed ever-present near the darkest edges of the room solidified into a familiar figure then, and Fifth Prince Clariburnus tore himself out of the blackness and stalked into his traditional place near the center of the dias upon which the Most High's great throne stood. "Make your accusations in my presence, if you will, and do not take solace in my absence. If you disrespect me, rest assured I will hear of it!"

"Indeed, your rudeness seems to know no bounds," Brennus put in, straightening from his bow and narrowing his bronze eyes in the seneschal's direction. "If anyone else were to address two of the Princes of Shade in such a contemptuous manner, he would likely find the shadow orb being torn from his body for his insolence."

"Be silent, both of you," Telamont ordered, and both princes wisely held their tongues; the sovereign ruler of Thultanthar came forward in his throne then, his eyes burning with platinum fires within the perpetual darkness of his face. "You were charged with far more than that upon your departure, though it should come as no surprise to me that you chose only to carry out the part of your mandate that seemed suitable to you at the time. I also charged you with seeing to Soleil's safety while my sons pursued the Nether Scroll, and in that regard you failed me utterly. There is no excuse for your disobedience."

The High Prince lifted his hand and flicked his index finger in Hadrhune's direction, and with a great crack the seneschal's spine dislocated at the fourth lumbar down; the shadow sorcerer fell to his knees, growling away the intense pain, knowing that to show any more weakness than that would surely earn him a further display of the Most High's wrath. He remained perfectly still where he had collapsed, his every breath coming in a wheeze as his accelerated rate of healing gradually slipped the lumbar back into place, and barely a minute later he had recovered enough to take his feet before his sovereign and offer the proper obeisance.

"This discussion is at an end," Telamont rumbled. "Remove yourself from my sight."

Hadrhune turned at once and stormed out, his back slightly bowed as his spine continued to shift back into place; Brennus and Clariburnus traced his every step with their eyes, both of their faces expertly arranged into expressions of indifference but inwardly shuddering at his brief but brutal punishment. Telamont descended from the dias and gestured for both of them to follow him to the world window, and both princes fell into step one pace behind him.

"He is many things," observed the High Prince idly, waving his hand over the world window to awaken his magic, and when the whole of Faerun spread out beneath them he filled his eyes with it almost greedily. "Jealous, volatile, and incredibly opinionated. Normally I would not abide such detrimental character flaws in a member of my court, but I cannot deny his usefulness. He is far too devoted to be permanently dismissed."

"He is unable to see what lies beneath the surface," Clariburnus offered somewhat monotonously. "I crossed paths with him as he was returning from the excavation site… He told me that he came across a curious mute drow while patrolling the skies above Anauroch and was utterly convinced the drow couldn't possibly be an acquaintance of Phendrana's – let alone the personal emissary of Most High Telamont. His close-mindedness knows no bounds, it seems."

"Though it seems Specter did little to dissuade him," said Telamont bemusedly.

"It is good to let others draw their own conclusions from time to time, true or false," Brennus put in with a chuckle. "It builds character."

This time Telamont laughed along, even as he spoke Phendrana's name aloud and the world window's perspective shifted and drew into tighter focus; it was as if a magnifying tool had been fixed upon a specific point of the world and was bringing it into shocking clarity. The point fixed upon the chosen target where the great desert of Anauroch ended and the Border Forest began, in time for them to see Phendrana collapse into the arms of his startled and stricken friends. After a few silent moments of observation Telamont said, "The doppelganger will recover."

"And likely grow stronger," Clariburnus guessed, watching the scene reflected in the still surface with great interest. "His will may be strong, but his determination, it seems, is mightier still."

"You need only to consider the devastation he has left in his wake to have proof of that," Brennus readily agreed. "Baldur's Gate forever changed, the pirate league of the Sword Coast in shambles, the famed psion Daermond in the grave, and now scores of phaerimm butchered… All in the name of four adventurers of mediocre talents whose names Faerun will likely forget long before this Age is through. His is devotion even Hadrhune could never comprehend."

Telamont's eyes settled upon Brennus, twin pinpricks of hardened silver. "And do you believe he can be turned?"

Brennus hesitated, and Telamont felt the loremaster struggle within himself to separate his personal feelings on the matter from the facts for the barest fraction of a second; when he spoke, though, he was as diplomatic as always. "It's difficult to say at this stage. His mind is far too complex for guesswork of this nature. If you will allow me, I have two pieces of advice for you: the first is, do not threaten Phendrana's friends. The doppelganger's vengeance is swift and unforgiveable when his companions are wronged. The second is this: Phendrana serves only noble causes, from what little I have been able to determine of his character. To turn him, you must make him believe that the glorious resurrection of the Empire of Netheril is a good thing."

"The resurrection of the Empire of Netheril _is_ a noble cause – perhaps the most valorous cause ever to shape the face of Faerun," the Most High snapped in a sudden bout of fury. "Though I recognize that few that occupy the World Below will understand the significance of the return of our great city until we have laid claim to all that is rightfully ours." Telamont trained his focus upon a different point upon the world window, replacing the image of the incoherent Phendrana with the impressive view of a formidable tower, its alabaster spires piercing the cerulean sky and its banners snapping proudly in a crisp breeze. "The upcoming negotiations with the Lords of Waterdeep will decide much; everything now hinges upon the delegation journeying to meet with Waterdeep's rulers. It is fortunate that you had the presence of mind to pass on the date of the counsel to Phendrana – his friends will advise him against attending, but the intrigue will be too much for him. He will come."

Clariburnus was nodding along, with Brennus brooding at his side. "Of that, there can be no doubt."

"I am sending Escanor as chief negotiator – his approachable demeanor will alter Phendrana's overall perspective of the Shadovar. Vattick, who is an excellent judge of character and knows when he is being lied to, will serve as an irreplaceable asset in this negotiation, and Aglarel, who led our previous meeting with Waterdeep and is still bitter over his treatment there, will be able to show Phendrana the true natures of both parties involved. When the meeting concludes, Brennus, it will fall to you to waylay Phendrana and convince him of the righteousness of our cause. He will be confused, he will be vulnerable… he will be highly susceptible to your kind words, and so will receive you as he would a friend."

"I will not fail you in this, Most High One," Brennus vowed, bowing low yet again. "I will personally see to it that Phendrana walks out of Waterdeep with more than a little sympathy for our cause."

Telamont refocused the world window upon the now-unconscious Phendrana, cradled protectively within Rosalles's arms, and smiled wickedly. "All things are now in motion. In this way, our birthright will at last be realized. Soon Faerun will tremble at the might of Thultanthar, and soon Phendrana's unbelievable talents will belong to me."

* * *

Soleil awoke in near darkness, sprawled on her back in the center of her bed in Villa Cloveri. For the first few moments she seriously considered drifting back off to sleep, for she felt fatigued still and knew that more rest would come far too easily, but dimly she perceived the sound of hushed voices conversing not far from where she lay and she lifted her head off the pillows with a groan. There was little use in eavesdropping, for she could make out neither the words nor the owners of the voices speaking, but the hurried and harassed tones in which they spoke served to draw her out of bed – something had gone awry, though what she could not begin to guess.

Her feet hit the floor and she rose weakly, her legs uncertain as she battled back soreness and fatigue. Someone had tended her while she slept, for her battle raiment had been removed and she now wore a floor length shift that was white at the shoulder and darkened from pale to radiant yellow at her ankles; she bound it at the waist with a golden cord and shuffled barefoot toward the balcony, where the curtains had been drawn but fluttered in the ever-present breeze. She paused within arms' length of the nearest curtain and cocked her ear to one side, listening intently, and thought she recognized the voice of Ninth Prince Vattick as he murmured in a conspiratorial undertone. Reaching out one hand she brushed the curtain aside tentatively, to find Vattick and Escanor standing near the guardrail of the balcony and whispering mutinously to one another; they paused when she entered their company – looking guilty, it seemed to Soleil – but they recovered themselves quickly and fell upon her almost at once.

"You have no business being up and about," Vattick protested, looking her up and down most appraisingly before tugging her into a brief embrace. "The Most High commanded that you find rest at any cost – that is the reason I am here. Back to bed with you, no arguments."

Soleil shook her head, half in defiance and half to clear the fog that lingered from her heavy sleep. Escanor sidled over and pulled her close, and she lingered in his arms far longer than she thought was wise but found she just didn't care at the moment; when he spoke his chest rumbled, for her ear was pressed close to his body. "You have been asleep for a long time – eleven hours. Much has happened while you slept."

She lifted her head and craned her neck back so that she could look him in the eye, releasing him reluctantly and stepping back so she could better gauge his demeanor; the First Prince kept his face perfectly impassive, giving nothing away. With suspicion in her voice Soleil raised an eyebrow and asked, "Might I inquire as to what has happened?"

Vattick and Escanor exchanged a glance, as though considering just how much to divulge; Soleil heaved an impatient sigh, prompting Vattick to roll his eyes theatrically. Escanor dropped a hand down upon his younger brother's shoulder and steered him toward the guardrail of the balcony, saying, "Take your leave, brother – I will attend to this matter. You have scarcely left Soleil's side since she returned from Tethyamar – surely you have other duties to attend to."

"Do you not have similar priorities?" asked Vattick slyly, but Escanor shook his head most insistently.

"My priority is here – now go. Should you find yourself in the Most High's company, pass along the message that Soleil has awoken and appears to be recovering. He will be most happy to receive such news."

Vattick bowed low. "Understood." As he was melting into his own shadow he cast his gaze upon Soleil one last time and said, "Do not overexert yourself. Promise me."

"I promise," Soleil murmured solemnly, and then the Ninth Prince took his leave.

Escanor was staring thoughtfully at the spot in which Vattick had last been standing, his expression vacant even as Soleil nudged him gently to regain his attention; he offered her a hurried half smile before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and steering her through the curtains and back into her private quarters, and once there he pushed her gently down upon her bed again and covered her shoulders with a loosely-woven quilt. There was silence as he crept across the room, during which Soleil waited for her eyes to re-adjust to the near darkness, and then Escanor lit three candles set into a pewter candelabra upon her study desk and blinked owlishly in the sudden light flickering softly from the violet flames.

Their eyes met across the room, and with a thrill of real fear Soleil suddenly realized that they were truly alone. "What has happened?" she asked again, an uncertain quaver in her voice, and Escanor rounded the desk and closed the distance between them before drawing a chair right up to her bedside and seating himself.

"The Most High has learned of your tryst," Escanor confessed delicately, and when a violent shudder ripped through Soleil's entire body he lurched forward and took hold of one of her hands in an attempt to keep her calm.

"How?!" Soleil gasped out, for her throat was suddenly very dry and hardly seemed able to vocalize anything.

Escanor hesitated; his eyes were filled with utmost sympathy. At length, though, he offered a reply. "Hadrhune informed him of it."

Any feelings Soleil may have yet been harboring for the seneschal dissolved at this news as the remnants of half-formed desire and comfort laced with guilt transformed themselves into inconsolable rage. Months previous they had agreed to enter into their secret romance with the shared understanding that the High Prince could never know of such a relationship; Soleil herself was often hard pressed to keep their tryst from reaching the High Prince's ears, and what had he done now but betray her trust? She wondered then as she labored for breath if he had cherished any of their time together at all, or if in the end he had simply come to regard her as a liability, the obstacle that stood between him and the favor of the High Prince. Though her face was twisted with anger her words came out saturated with despair. "But… why?"

"He was called to the Most High's audience chamber a few hours ago, to answer for his blatant disregard for your safety and his failure to uphold his pledge to the High Prince," Escanor began to explain, his expression cautious, his every word carefully measured as he searched her face for any reaction. "The High Prince was prepared to demand Hadrhune's resignation from the Shadow Council. As we understand it the High Prince bartered with Hadrhune for his confession of the affair, in exchange for a lighter sentence. It seems that Hadrhune was all too willing to oblige him."

Soleil's head was buzzing with shock as she subconsciously flexed her fingers around the edges of the quilt, for it felt as though the blood was freezing in her veins and her extremities suddenly seemed to be unwilling to obey her. The news that the Most High had been privy to the knowledge of their affair, perhaps from the very start, flooded her insides with dread. What would become of her, now that the lies that constituted her private life had become public knowledge? If the High Prince had demanded Hadrhune's confession and rewarded him with a lighter sentence, surely her banishment from the Shadow Council was imminent – after all, she had nothing to offer in exchange for a reprieve.

She dropped her head into her hands in a show of utter defeat, her shoulders trembling as the full weight of her dismay came crashing down upon her. "That's it then. I am ruined. The High Prince will never forgive me for this betrayal. Surely all I can hope for is to be allowed to leave with my life."

There was silence for a moment as Escanor considered how best to respond, then he shifted minutely closer and tugged the mountebank's hands away from her face; when she looked him in the eye it was to find that his copper-eyed gaze had softened with pity. His next words took her completely by surprise. "There will be no punishment."

"What?" barked out Soleil. "Surely there has been some mistake. Am I not as much to blame as Hadrhune?"

"The High Prince has decided to pardon you your transgressions, partly out of his anger at Hadrhune's mishandling of the affairs in Tethyamar and partly out of concern for your physical state. It seems he has decided to hold Hadrhune responsible, owing mostly to the fact that Hadrhune preyed upon your loneliness and used you to fulfill his own personal needs." Escanor offered her a wry smile, though there was no mirth whatsoever in his expression. "Hadrhune has told the High Prince that he used you from the start."

Now Soleil regarded the First Prince with open confusion, for that was not an accurate account of the events as she recalled them. "But his story is false… I entered into our affair willingly. Surely the High Prince knows that?"

"The High Prince has accepted Hadrhune's version of events as the truth," Escanor admitted, "or so it would seem. Vattick came to tell me that Hadrhune's punishment had been decided upon, and the lighter sentence the Most High proposed was what Hadrhune will be serving – no more, no less."

"And the sentence?"

"He is to remain within the enclave, until such time as the Most High feels he can begin to trust him again."

"And why did he lie?" Soleil growled angrily, and Escanor sighed.

"As we understand it, he was trying to protect you," the First Prince confessed quietly. "Vattick believes that it may have been Hadrhune's way of apologizing to you for betraying your trust. Certainly the High Prince knows the truth, and is fully aware that Hadrhune's version of the events comprising your affair is a lie, but perhaps he sees the tale as Vattick does and couldn't help being touched by such effort. After all, when is Hadrhune willing to take the fall for anyone?"

The thought was a sobering one, and Soleil let go of her anger immediately. What Escanor said was true: Hadrhune had a reputation for caring for no one but himself, and was quick to spin tales of deceit against his enemies as his preferred method of keeping himself cast in a more favorable light. The fact that he had shouldered the blame and taken on the Most High's sentencing just to keep Soleil from incurring their sovereign's wrath suggested that perhaps Hadrhune had valued their affair more than she realized. Abruptly, she felt very humbled.

"I must make it a point to express my gratitude," she almost whispered, "when I am well."

Escanor nodded along sagely, but his gaze wasn't quite focused on her and he seemed somehow distraught by something she had said. There was silence between them for quite some time, and just when Soleil was beginning to suspect that their discussion had come to an end Escanor asked, "Do you mean to continue to offer Hadrhune your affections?"

The thought was so absurd that Soleil couldn't help chuckling into the back of her hand. "Of course not, Prince. Why would you think so?"

Escanor was taken aback by her response, and it showed as he floundered about for a reply of his own. "Well I… That is to say, I merely thought that…"

"It is clear to me through Hadrhune's actions and decisions that our affair has come to an end – indeed, were I made of more intelligent stock I would have come to see that it ended long before today." Soleil smiled wryly, hardly impressed with herself in that moment. "It is long past time that I started to be honest with myself – that being said, there is little point pretending that I haven't come to understand just how I feel about you. Though it would seem that now is a poor time to tell you these things – "

"No," Escanor growled, his copper eyes hard and blazing within his suddenly intense face. "Tell me."

Soleil's cheeks grew red, but still she tried to evade him. "Prince, I – "

"Are you really prepared to refuse the express command of the First Prince of Shade?" asked Escanor in a tone of authority, and Soleil cast her eyes, now wild with fear, upon her hands as they twisted upon her lap. "You cannot hide, Soleil, and now would seem a terrible time to decide to continue to be dishonest. All that you and Hadrhune have shared is now over, or so you have said, and what's more you have confessed that it was based upon a lie. Do not continue to conduct your personal life in this vein – I beg of you." Escanor threw caution to the winds then and shifted so that he was sitting upon the mattress beside her, his hands cradling her face tenderly and his eyes beseeching. "Let this be the beginning of the truth of your life."

"I am in love with you," Soleil admitted in a breathy rush, her eyes shining with sudden immeasurable emotion, and the first of her tears streaked from her eyes to dampen Escanor's fingertips. "Though I cannot help feeling ashamed of myself for wanting something that is so obviously out of my reach."

"You must put such thoughts and fears out of your mind," said Escanor in a far gentler tone of voice, drying the tears she had shed with a few gentle caresses of his thumbs. "For if it is something you and I both desire, how can it possibly be wrong?" He moved even closer, his copper eyes probing her own as though curious to see how he might be received; Soleil sat frozen beneath the intensity of his gaze and felt her skin growing undeniably warm as she gravitated toward him almost involuntarily. In the moment before their lips met Escanor smiled a little victoriously, it seemed, before whispering, "If I may?"

"I am so afraid," Soleil managed to gasp out. "What if I disappoint you?"

"You could never disappoint me," Escanor assured her, and drawing her face toward his he kissed her softly, compassionately, and wordlessly offered her all of the things she had always wanted and never received. The minimal space between them grew unbearably warm all too quickly, though, and far too soon they were forced to part; shortly afterward fatigue overwhelmed Soleil again, and Escanor left her to rest after promising to return later to assess her condition.


	9. Nine - Paths Crossing, Again

Nine: Paths Crossing, Again

The journey from Anauroch was far easier than Phendrana might have expected. Though he had a great deal of difficulty convincing his friends to help him pursue the Princes of Shade to Waterdeep he managed it in the end, and they followed him begrudgingly north to the Black Road and made their way west, for Rosalles had an acquaintance who lived in Dagger Falls whom he insisted would be able to speed them on their way. His friend turned out to be a rather eccentric female bard who had dabbled with only minor success in the art of conjuration magic for several years, who fashioned them a portal that she assured them would aid them in crossing hundreds of miles instantly. Though the company was most reluctant to accept the bard's offer Rosalles assured them that it would be worth their while, and so after much debate they stepped through the portal and found themselves much nearer to their destination – namely in the small hamlet of Goldenfields, just south of Red Larch and a mere fifty miles from Waterdeep.

They made good time that first day, so pleased with the ease with which their journey was progressing that they talked and laughed companionably together as the miles fell away beneath their feet; just after dusk they set up camp for the night and slept beneath the stars, for the evening was pleasant and balmy and the sky clear. Phendrana took the first watch and lounged upon a soft bed of grass, committing Twelfth Prince Brennus's words of invite to memory, considering his too-clear recollection of the loremaster's face and wondering why the man intrigued him so. When Aust roused to take the second watch the doppelganger fell asleep almost instantly, fatigued from their travels and in high spirits for the days that were soon to come.

On the second day they broke camp just after dawn and headed southwest at a moderate pace, Phendrana forging the path ahead with Aidan keeping a watchful eye at the rear of their company. At midday they paused for a brief rest and a light repast of the bread, cheese, and salted meat that they had saved in their travel rations before setting off again, and the journey was quite mundane until they reached the cave.

It was just off the footpath that would take them into Waterdeep, little more than a single cavern, really, and untouched by the radiance of the sun though its entrance was wide as if to receive the golden rays. Rosalles, Aust and Ivy passed it by as though nothing was amiss, but Aidan glanced at it several times with an intrigued expression and Phendrana was so unnerved by its ominous aura that he visibly shuddered as he circled the entrance.

"There is a fell presence here," he murmured to Aidan in a careful undertone, and the tiefling nodded and settled one hand upon the grip of her double-bladed sword with a grim set to her jaw.

"I feel it also," she agreed, scanning the entrance with her unusual orange eyes. "Something sinister is at work, though just what I cannot guess."

"Oy!" Aust called out to them, and turning away from the entrance to the cave with great reluctance they noticed that the other three had already reached the bend in the road that would lead them out of the foothills and into the plains in which their destination was nestled. The half elf was waving at them in an effort to get their attention; Rosalles watched Phendrana with an eyebrow raised as if in silent question, and Ivy was skipping about collecting various wildflowers with her characteristic childlike enthusiasm. "What's the hold up, then? If you've got a mind to meet those devils in Waterdeep, we'd best be off with no delay!"

Phendrana and Aidan, now so distracted by the moroseness and fell intent they felt emanating from the cavern, scarcely heard a word he'd said; the doppelganger was slowly edging his way nearer to the entrance, and Aidan followed suit only a pace or two behind. Rosalles hurried to intercept them, growing increasingly more concerned with the vacant expressions they now wore and the mystified way they moved, until he was near enough to feel the inexplicable dread they were slowly succumbing to and he rocked back on his heels as though stunned.

"It is no lie," he called back to Aust, who was keeping a wary distance. "There is some manner of evil magic at work here… it bewitches the mind and ensnares the senses. I suggest you keep your distance… already I feel it weighing heavily upon my thoughts and clouding my judgment."

"They are powerless to stop it," Aust pointed out, staggering another step forward with one hand outstretched, for even as he watched Phendrana shuffled into the mouth of the cave and became lost within the darkness. "We have no choice but to follow, or risk losing them forever."

"Do your best to keep your wits about you," Rosalles cautioned, and with his right hand he drew his bejeweled rapier from its sheath and brandished it as though he hoped it would ward off any unseen threats.

Aust held out one hand to little Ivy, who had drawn almost level with him and was trembling head to toe with terror; she slid her tiny little hand into his and allowed the callus half-elf to lead her forward, and the two drew their own weapons as Aidan followed Phendrana thoughtlessly into the cave.

* * *

Near the back of the cave Ishka roused himself into a higher state of awareness, perfectly attuned to the uncertain shuffling of feet as a handful of unseen travelers wandered carelessly into his domain. His eyes flitted momentarily to where his greatsword, Grimsever, was propped carefully against the far gray wall, its blade bathed in the eerie silver-blue light of phosphorescent mushrooms growing in the deepest corners of the cavern. He had the plan all worked out in his mind – goad these foolish travelers into fighting him, and see just how strong they were.

Hopefully they were strong enough to end his life, and with it the curse that had plagued him for so long.

But he doubted it.

* * *

Phendrana's mind cleared and his senses returned the moment he had crossed the threshold into the cave, for which he was instantly grateful; in his despair-filled stupor he had even lost contact with those six who shared his mind, and that was perhaps the most unnerving sensation he had ever felt. Their psyches embraced him when his clarity of mind returned, easing some of the tension out of his muscles with their familiar voices, and by the time he turned back to the gaping maw of the cave entrance it was to find that both Aidan and Rosalles had joined him.

"What manner of enchantment could have lured all of us in here?" he wondered aloud, but the question was rhetorical - Aidan and Rosalles survived by the blade, and had little knowledge of the arcane.

"I can only speculate," Rosalles answered him anyway, his hand still clenched around the hilt of the rapier that he had lowered somewhat begrudgingly to his side. "Whatever it is, we would do well to stay wary of it. If it is a living entity, it must have reason for bringing us here."

The doppelganger nodded and turned back to the anterior chamber of the nearly-lightless cavern as Aust and Ivy melted out of the shadows obscuring the entrance from the bright sunshine, surveying his new surroundings with a shrewd gaze. The ceiling was low, barely a foot above his head in most places, and judging by the uneven ground beneath his feet he assumed that he would be stooping to pass through some of the corridors deeper within – this did nothing to assuage his anxiety, for Phendrana had always been a touch claustrophobic and cared little for dark, enclosed spaces of all kinds. The air was chill despite the mild temperature outside and somewhat dank, suggesting that there were standing water deposits somewhere further inside, and he thought he could smell the pelt of some larger mammal that may have once dwelt within but had no way to be certain. Well acquainted with Phendrana's dislike of cramped quarters the gloaming Zerena nudged lightly against his consciousness in a kind of wordless offer to take over, and he was all too willing to assume her much smaller form without much further prompting.

Zerena stretched her black wings luxuriously, the golden string of her great bow shimmering despite the lack of light. "Let us investigate quickly," she suggested as she padded to the head of their party, making not a sound in her delicate ballerina's slippers. "It would not do for us to be anything but punctual for our liaison with the Princes of Shade and the Lords of Waterdeep."

She ducked down the nearest low corridor without waiting for any kind of verbal reply, confident that the others would follow her without protest, and led the way with keen eyes and sure feet. Despite the near-darkness of their surroundings they moved just as quickly as before, for Zerena, Ivy, and Aidan were all well suited to such environments and were able to lead Rosalles and Aust forward without much difficulty. After a minute or two of tense, cramped travel Zerena reached a point where the tunnel widened out into a chamber with a slightly higher ceiling, and the taller members of their group were able to stand without crouching.

"Watch your step," the gloaming warned them, and when Rosalles shuffled to her side with a slightly raised eyebrow she pointed to the ground. About ten feet ahead of them, barely visible to the mercenary captain's surface-dweller's eyes, was a deep pit the descended downward in a steep drop onto jagged, knife-like stalagmites protruding from the ground.

"Certain death awaits the careless," Rosalles agreed with a low whistle, moving an inch or two nearer to Zerena's side as though dependent on her eyesight to keep him safe.

"Indeed," came Aidan's grim reply from a few paces to their left, and they snapped their heads in that direction to find the tiefling kneeling over some indistinguishable mass of matted fur; upon closer inspection they came to realize that it was the carcass of a great grizzly bear, and that the beast's blood was long dried upon the floor and nearby walls in messy red-black smears.

"At least a tenday old," Aust explained, examining the nearest stain on the wall with a practiced eye. "Wouldn't be a stretch to say it's been here a fortnight or longer, though… Amazin' the smaller animals haven't got to it yet."

Aidan was crouched over the bear's body, examining it by the faint illumination radiating from Zerena's magically backlit skin; over her shoulder the gloaming could clearly see the deep lacerations in the creature's hide, wounds that would easily have claimed the beast's life. "These were caused by a large blade," the tiefling told them, her dark-skinned fingertips hovering uncertainly a few millimeters above the fur. "The strokes were quick and cut deep. It's likely the creature didn't even have the opportunity to fight back."

"Poor thing," lamented Ivy, her bottom lip quivering just a bit, and reaching back Zerena patted her comfortingly upon the forearm.

Aust was simultaneously standing guard and scanning the chamber for potential threats, but his half elf's eyes weren't nearly as keen in such low light and he was squinting furiously to identify even the closest objects. "Not sure we should stick around," he remarked gruffly, scuffing the stone underfoot with the toe of his boot, and his hand strayed to the hilt of his father's sentient sword as though to reassure himself that he wouldn't be caught unarmed if threatened. "I'm not gettin' the best feelin' about this place."

Rosalles was at the far edge of Zerena's vision, just near enough that she saw the sudden shudder that coursed down his spine. "I feel as though I can almost hear a voice," he muttered in a pinched undertone. "As though someone is talking to me, but I can't quite make out the words…"

It was fortunate that Zerena was watching the mercenary so closely as he spoke, for there was no movement or sound to indicate that Rosalles was in any danger – only the dull glint of a blade as it arced down through the murky darkness.

* * *

High Prince Telamont was standing at the world window divining the affairs of lesser creatures when he decided on a whim to look in on the doppelganger Phendrana and his friends, and it was fortunate that he did – he was just in time to witness the blade as it found its mark upon Rosalles's shoulder and tore a gash deep enough to drip blood down the mercenary's forearm. He watched with increasing interest as the gloaming Zerena – one of the doppelganger's personalities, he knew – hefted her enchanted bow and let fly a single glimmering arrow. The shot was masterful; the golden tip of the arrowhead bit into the flesh of a hulking brute of a human man that Telamont did not recognize, burying itself into his chest to the shaft, and though the arrow had most definitely punctured the man's heart he barely grimaced and certainly did not slow.

It was the only indication that perhaps the man they faced was much more than he appeared, and it prompted Telamont to look at him a little more closely.

With a little concentration, the High Prince could feel the inexorable pull of powerful magical items even from so great a distance – such was his mastery of the arcane, and the depth of his devotion to the goddess Shar. There were minor enchantments bound into the greatsword the man wielded, as well as the bracers he wore upon both his wrists, but nothing powerful or exotic enough to warrant a second glance; only when Telamont's eyes fell upon the diamond-shaped copper stud adorning the man's ear with its ruby gemstone barely larger than a single grain of sand was he certain that the man Phendrana and his companions now faced was a force to be reckoned with.

"Brennus," he spoke aloud into the shadows that clung perpetually to the far corners of the audience chamber. "To me, at once."

He had only to wait two heartbeats for the loremaster to arrive; Brennus's figure solidified from shadow and he materialized only a few paces away, bowing low before circling the world window to stand at his father's side. "How may I serve you, Most High One?"

"It seems that the doppelganger and his little friends may have bitten off more than they can chew this time," Telamont observed idly, watching the battle unfold with a dark expression settling into his facial features. "That man has sustained fatal wounds and has hardly even slowed his movements – by all logic, he should be dead, yet he stands. The earring he wears radiates very powerful enchantments, though from where they originate I cannot tell from here… I am prepared to assume that the earring is the source of his inhuman stamina. It is likely he cannot be stopped by mere mortals alone."

Brennus's eyes were upon the man reflected in the center of the animate pool, taking in the manic, obsessed glint of his eyes and the inhuman strength with which he wielded his blade, and took his sovereign at his word. "Should you like me to intervene?"

"I fear that if you do not, Phendrana will not find his way to Waterdeep at all." Telamont turned to his youngest son at last, his platinum eyes glittering coldly and remorselessly from within the deep shadows that masked the rest of his face. "I have already determined that one way or another, Phendrana will be a part of the Shadow Council – I will let nothing stand in my way, least of all this nameless waif in possession of near-godlike powers that are obviously far beyond him. Go and deliver unto him the wrath of Thultanthar, but be warned – if you are bested and Phendrana is lost, I am holding you personally responsible for such failure. Up until now it is _you_ who has favored the mindmaster's cause. He is your responsibility for now."

The Twelfth Prince bowed again, but this time the motion was a little rushed – he was eager to be on his way, Telamont supposed, keen to uphold his honor and prove that he was worthy. "I completely understand. I will see to it at once."

"Yes, do." Telamont paused for a moment, considering, and added in a menacing undertone, "Do not forget that I rewarded you for your snap decisions. Phendrana was never meant to be a part of our negotiations with the Lords of Waterdeep, but I see the potential gains and have decided to allow it. If I come to regret my choice, there will be consequences."

"I will ensure it doesn't come to that," Brennus vowed solemnly, and with that he vanished from the audience chamber in a wisp of shadowstuff.

* * *

Rosalles reeled from the blow, stumbled backward, and landed unceremoniously upon his tailbone with a sharp twinge of pain, though through some miracle he managed to keep a grip on the hilt of his rapier. Glancing up fearfully he caught his first glimpse of just who had accosted him, in the moments before their adversary struck again.

He looked human, but Rosalles's first impression was that there was just something completely and utterly _wrong_ about him – no man of flesh and blood that the mercenary captain had ever encountered on the open seas possessed eyes so empty, or an expression so lifeless. Had the man been standing side-by-side with Phendrana he would have towered head and shoulders over the doppelganger, which placed him at about seven feet tall; his arms and torso were built as solidly as machinery, though the strength which radiated from those appendages felt somehow foreign and alien. He bore down upon Rosalles with his teeth bared in ferocity, the emptiness of his dark eyes bringing to mind bottomless pits and the cold determination in his glare freezing Rosalles helplessly in place –

Zerena recovered herself long before the others, strafing to one side with a single powerful flexing of her wings and hefting her glimmering bow; the gloaming had only a moment to act, and setting a single golden arrow to the shining bowstring she sighted with a practiced eye and let fly. The arrow cut dangerously near to little Ivy's shoulder but zipped on by, slicing beneath the brutish man's upraised non-dominant arm and piercing him squarely in the left side of his chest. Despite the nature of their situation, Zerena couldn't help but flinch – she inherently cared deeply for all creatures, and she was certain at first glance that her arrow had found its mark in this unfortunate man's heart.

"Ouch," said Aust remorselessly, and taking Rosalles's hand he hoisted the stricken mercenary back to his feet. "Ivy, you got a potion for Rosie? He's lookin' a little green around the gills."

Ivy wasted no time in rummaging through her satchel for a healing elixir for Rosalles, whose face was pale and whose arm was bleeding profusely; Aidan relaxed her grip on her sheathed blade, but Zerena's muscles remained tensed and ready to strike. Their enemy had stopped moving but hadn't fallen – it seemed to the gloaming that his breathing remained normal, and his eyes just as focused as before! She wondered briefly if her arrow hadn't been as effective as she had originally guessed, and even reached over her shoulder for another, but her movements were too slow and uncertain for her to react to what happened next. The man's tightly-corded arms flexed as his hands curled with renewed purpose around his raised greatsword, his teeth bared in a snarl, and he swung the sword downward with all of his strength.

Rosalles and Ivy both owed their lives to Aust, who was the only one among them who retained the presence of mind to act in that moment. He thrust out his free hand and caught Ivy upon the shoulder with enough force to send the halfling reeling backward with a squeal, out of reach of the sword's stroke, and with his other hand still clutching Rosalles's he leapt to the left and dragged the mercenary along with him. The sword cracked down upon the stone at their feet, exploding in sparks of gunmetal gray upon impact, but thanks to Aust's reflexes no one was injured.

"What in the Nine Hells – " Aust started to protest, but the hulking man with the lifeless eyes hefted his sword for yet another swing, and the rest of the half-elf's curses died upon his tongue as he rolled to one side.

Aidan was the next closest, and managed to get her double-bladed sword up in time to deflect the next stroke. Her form was as masterful as always but she lacked the strength to do battle with their towering adversary on even footing, and the moment their blades collided her own sword was jolted from her hands and nearly decapitated poor little Ivy as it went spinning on by. Zerena set another arrow to her golden bowstring and let fly, but by now their nemesis was in full motion and managed to dodge out of its trajectory before it could strike him; his eyes were fixed upon Aust, who had no more room to backpedal as he was nearly pressed back against one of the rough cavern walls. The half elf barely managed to lift his sword in his defense, but the angle was wrong and he only partially parried the angry horizontal swipe that came his way; the tip of the sword tore into the lower torso of his armor, but not with enough momentum to puncture his skin. The man with the dark eyes growled through tightly clenched teeth and hefted his enormous blade, muscles coiled to strike yet again –

Ivy danced up behind him, her feet light and soundless upon the stone floor, and brought her little mace smashing into the back of his knee. There was enough force behind the blow to momentarily cripple their adversary's leg, which changed the impact point of his next strike completely – the blade squealed as it struck the wall just inches to the right of Aust's head, and the half elf ducked beneath the greatsword and scrambled away.

Zerena was sighting down the shaft of her third arrow as the brute turned back to face them, and when he had fully squared up she released it with shocking accuracy; the golden arrowhead blazed its path through the near-darkness, and found their adversary precisely between the eyes.

They breathed a collective sigh of relief when the man toppled over backward, his body falling lifelessly upon the stone.

"Gods!" cursed Aust aloud, inspecting the sizeable tear in his armor and spitting vindictively upon the prone man's breastplate. "Who in the Nine Hells was that?!"

Phendrana had seized control of his body by then; he was twisting the stopper out of the little glass bottle that Ivy had dug out of her satchel, for Rosalles's hands were shaking too badly to do it himself. At surreptitious intervals the doppelganger's protuberant silver eyes flitted from Rosalles's bloodied arm to where their adversary lay, his expression suspicious and even a little afraid. "I can say only that I do not recognize him," he told them at length, tipping the contents of the vial into Rosalles's mouth, "and also that it is clear there is far more to him than mere appearances would suggest. Zerena is far keener with a bow than anyone else I have ever known – if she is certain her first arrow struck his heart, then there is no debating that is what happened."

"But how could he have possibly kept fighting after that?" inquired Ivy in a tinny voice, and Phendrana dropped his free hand down upon her head and gently tousled her mousy red-brown curls in an attempt to soothe her.

"I know not, dear one," he confessed, "but it seems the threat has passed."

Phendrana's brilliant, ever-active mind then informed him of just how wrong he was, for in the next moment as he subconsciously reached out his mental influence to better gauge his surroudings he distinctly felt six separate patterns of thought – and he and his companions numbered only five.

"_Phendrana_!" Aidan roared from somewhere behind him, her voice high and desperate, but even as the doppelganger turned he knew that he was moving far too slow for it to make a difference. His death awaited him – he knew it in the sudden and unexplainable chill that coursed down his spine, and wondered if he would turn back in time to see his end as it approached or if their adversary would dishonor him by stabbing him in the back.

He flung out his arms as he staggered a single step backward, hoping against all hope that he could at least protect Rosalles and Ivy from the killing blow, and though his eyes were fixed upon the chilling sight of their towering, mad-eyed adversary hefting his sword with arrows protruding from both forehead and chest he perceived a single dark, formless shadow solidifying upon the ground just in front of him; from the shadow leapt the figure of a man with flowing robes inscribed with strange gleaming runes and piercing bronze eyes, a serrated scimitar comprised entirely of shadow magic shining dully in his right hand, and with lightning-quick reflexes he thrust the magical blade up before him in a desperate attempt to stay the arcing greatsword. Though the shade boasted a spellcaster's slender build and lithe arms that appeared poorly suited for physical combat he barely flinched back when their two blades met in midair; he let out a single growl of effort and exerted every ounce of force he could muster, and somehow, miraculously, the greatsword was met with resistance enough to keep them all from harm.

"Back!" their unlikely rescuer barked at them over his shoulder, and with his arms still spread wide Phendrana backpedaled, bringing Rosalles and Ivy with him; it was fortunate they had listened, for in the next moment the inhuman brute with the slightly-luminous greatsword retracted his blade, howled in rage, and launched a complex maneuver of jabs and slashes that seemed impossible for someone his size. The shade's bronze eyes narrowed as he tracked the blade's movements, but it seemed his vision was quite keen in the near darkness and he launched a flawless counter-maneuver that kept the greatsword at bay. "You are quite skilled, warrior," he said at length. "Tell me your name."

"Ishka," their nemesis responded in a voice as empty as his eyes. "Though I wouldn't expect a shadow devil like you to be at all acquainted with me."

The shade's exoticly handsome face split into a kind of grim smile then, his ceremonial fangs glinting in the light emanating from Ishka's greatsword, and with a start Phendrana recognized him; it was the man who had nearly killed Aust back in the Frostfell, the man who had extended to him High Prince Telamont's gesture of goodwill – Twelfth Prince Brennus. "On the contrary, I think you and I are not as different as you believe… There is far more to you than mere flesh and blood, isn't there?"

"Come and see!" Ishka howled, his features twisting maniacally as he lifted his sword, but Brennus had other plans. Rather than continue to thwart such barbaric attacks the Twelfth Prince simply vanished in a small cloud of shadow particles, so quickly and suddenly that Ishka's momentum sent him stumbling forward off-balance; Brennus appeared again behind him and promptly kicked him in the rear, sending Ishka pitching headfirst to the ground.

"Run!" Brennus bellowed, sprinting forward even as Ishka swiped at them from below. "Scatter!"

Aidan clapped a hand down upon Aust's shoulder and tugged him away in the opposite direction, where Phendrana knew they would eventually find the mouth of the dank cave if they could keep their wits about them; there was no denying the logic in the prince's instructions for them to separate, but Phendrana simply didn't trust the shade alone with any of his beloved friends. He ushered Ivy toward Rosalles with the swift command of "Stay with him!", and the moment Brennus dashed past the doppelganger took off on his heels into the deeper, darker corridors of the cavern with the furious shrieks of Ishka echoing off the walls after them.

It was fortunate that Phendrana's eyes were naturally attuned to near darkness, for he found that the further into the cave the prince led him the darker his surroundings became; they weaved between stalagmites with all the speed and agility they could muster, well aware now that Ishka's booted feet were thudding along somewhere behind them, until it sounded almost as though he was right behind them and Brennus seized Phendrana by the elbow and half-dragged him into a shadowy alcove for safety.

For a moment the only sound was the slow drip of water from somewhere very far away, maddening in its repetition, and with a start Phendrana realized he could no longer hear the sound of Ishka's footsteps against the stone. Had he given up on pursuing them, or was he lingering just around the corner preparing to strike? Worse still, had he stumbled upon Phendrana's friends? Was he even now attacking them while Phendrana merely stood by, cowering in the darkness?

"What – " he blurted out, but he was silenced almost immediately when something soft and strangely cool pressed insistently against his lips; in the near complete darkness he could see only the Twelfth Prince's luminous bronze eyes, but he was certain it was the prince's finger staying his words.

Brennus's thoughts wafted clearly into Phendrana's mind in the next instant, as though he had known instinctively just how to project his voice to be heard. _Are you mad? Do you want to bring that behemoth down upon us? Now is not the time to be hasty – now is the time to err on the side of caution._

_Why are you here? _Phendrana snapped back, his voice saturated with hostility, for he was not only weary of the Princes of Shade interfering with all of his affairs but he did not at all approve of the way Brennus acted around him. The way he so easily interacted with Phendrana's too-active mind, his too-close proximity, the finger he kept pressed firmly to the doppelganger's lips as if in remind of how dire their situation was… It all felt too familiar to Phendrana, too intimate. It made him feel overwhelmed and uneasy. _Are we under constant scrutiny by you and your kind? You know far more about our movements than I would like. Have you been following us?_

The finger withdrew from his lips then, for which Phendrana was nothing but grateful, and the bronze eyes narrowed into slits. _I am not in the habit of explaining myself to commoners, however I feel compelled to inform you that the High Prince sent me here to thwart your attacker. I'll assume that you meant to thank me, not question my motives._

_You may assume whatever you like_, the doppelganger responded smartly. _I did not ask for you to interfere._

This was clearly not the response the prince had been expecting to hear; in the next moment he had seized Phendrana by the collar and shoved him back against the wall, his face now so near that the doppelganger could feel each of Brennus's exhales upon his face. Those bronze eyes had grown hard with anger, and in addition to feeling awed at the prince's surprising physical strength Phendrana found that he was now quite afraid of him. Something white flashed a few inches beneath those jewel-bright eyes – Brennus's ceremonial fangs, Phendrana realized, filed into sharpened points and glinting despite the lack of any real illumination.

_Had I not interfered you would be _dead_, you ungrateful wretch!_ Brennus bellowed, the full weight of his displeasure radiating throughout every crevice of Phendrana's mind, and the doppelganger found his knees were trembling slightly with fear. _And it is likely your friends would have been killed as well! If you are willing to risk that I will gladly take my leave of you, and inform the High Prince that the doppelganger Phendrana thinks himself above the aid of Thultanthar!_

He was treading on dangerous ground now, and he knew it; he didn't much like it, but Phendrana was beginning to understand that he had no choice but to abide the presence of the High Prince's emissaries for the time being. There was no question that the continued intervention of Twelfth Prince Brennus was making Phendrana increasingly more uneasy, but the alternative was opposing the Tanthul Dynasty and that, above all else, was something the doppelganger did not want. His thoughts raced as he stood there, frozen in place beneath the prince's forbidding glare, until he recovered himself enough to stammer through an apology.

_I meant no disrespect,_ Phendrana mumbled, dropping his gaze in what he hoped the prince perceived as a submissive gesture. _I am most grateful for your assistance. You must forgive me… I fear that one may have rattled me far more than I first thought._

_Understandable._ And just like that Brennus released him and put a little distance between them, shrinking back against the wall and daring to lean out of their little alcove. Phendrana mimicked him, his eyes darting up and down the cramped corridor into which they had fled in their hurry to find some measure of sanctuary, but he saw and heard nothing out of the ordinary and slunk back into the relative safety of the naturally-weathered nook almost at once. Brennus was longer about his inspection, but came up similarly empty-handed. _I can fend this Ishka off for a time, but anything I might do will only slow him down. This is no ordinary foe we face._

_You believe him to be beyond you? _Phendrana echoed incredulously, hoping against all hope that he didn't come across as mocking.

Fortunately, Brennus was not offended by his words; the ghost of laughter drifted through Phendrana's mind, though it was mirthless and edged with uneasiness. _With an arrow lodged in his heart and another in his brain, he should most certainly be dead – yet he pursues us like one possessed. Clearly there is more to that one than meets the eye… I suspect it would take the touch of the divine to truly put a stop to him, and I am no such exalted creature._

_What course do you propose, then? _Phendrana pressed anxiously, growing ever more agitated by the eerie and prolonged silence that pressed in all around them.

_I will draw him out,_ Brennus suggested, _while you make a run for it._

The doppelganger couldn't deny the logic in the shade's words – after all, it was clear that Brennus was much more likely to survive another round of combat against their adversary than he was – but oddly enough he found himself protesting all the same. _I can't allow you to –_

_I require no permission from you_, Brennus reminded dryly, his posture shifting from idle to coiled, as though he was preparing to spring into action. _Find your friends and leave this place – make with all haste to Waterdeep. You should never have allowed yourself to succumb to the dark intrigue of this place – your own morbid curiosities will be your undoing._

_And what will become of you? _Phendrana pressed, suddenly strangely afraid for his unlikely ally.

Another one of Brennus's darkly bemused laughs served as his only response at first, and his words were enigmatic. _I will use whatever means necessary to stave off this Ishka, as the Most High has instructed me._ And with that he edged out of the relative protection of the alcove, his inquisitive gaze darting all around for any sign of their pursuer –

The greatsword flashed dully in the near darkness, but the Twelfth Prince was just quick enough to avoid it; he flinched to one side, unfazed when the sharp edge of the blade caught the trailing hem of his loremaster's robes and sliced right through the fine fabric. Phendrana dropped back with a yelp, wondering how it was possible that a mere human could see so keenly in such lightless surroundings, but Brennus was shoving him in the opposite direction and conjuring what appeared to be a replica of the serrated black scimitar he had used to stave off Ishka's attacks when first he had appeared before them. Ishka swung again but Brennus dodged nimbly aside, growling for Phendrana to be on his way, and at last against his better judgment he set off into the darkness of the winding, too-close corridors alone.

He stumbled in his hurry, and behind him came a shout followed almost immediately by the sound of two steel blades clashing angrily together; Phendrana turned left, one hand sliding along the wall for guidance as much as balance, hardly daring to slow to get his bearings or risk being caught. His ears were oddly attuned to the sounds wafting up from the corridor behind him – he caught the scuffles of booted feet fighting for better footing with ease, and imagined he could hear Ishka's teeth grinding together in frustration and Brennus's soft, barely escalated breathing. He rounded another curve in the rock and bumped heavily into the next wall, clipping his own right shoulder painfully in his hurry, but claustrophobia was nagging at the corners of his consciousness and his desperation to see the sun's rays was beginning to weigh heavily into his movements –

Behind him came a gasp of real pain, followed by the sound of a blade clattering to the ground, and the thought that the Twelfth Prince of Shade might be bested was startling enough to halt Phendrana in his tracks. A low rumble reverberated off the walls, condescending and cold, the sure sound of Ishka chuckling with perceived victory, and stumbling feet told the doppelganger that Brennus was now scrambling to escape. Something in the cadence of the footfalls was disturbing, and it took Phendrana a moment's contemplation to realize that Brennus was fleeing at a limp – he had been injured while holding Ishka off, and Phendrana had no way of knowing how badly.

Phendrana turned right, his sense of direction only speculation as he struggled to recall from which way he had come, and collided headlong with Rosalles.

"By the Gods!" Rosalles hissed, putting out a hand to steady the reeling doppelganger, and Phendrana wasted no time in shushing him. When next he spoke, Rosalles's tone was much softer. "Are you alright?"

"I'm not hurt," Phendrana responded in a shaky voice, "but we need to leave this place at once. Do you know the way? We are short on time!"

"Yes, it's – "

Rosalles was interrupted by a sharp gasp of surprise from somewhere not far behind them, followed by a cry of very real fear and a scrabbling that Phendrana couldn't immediately explain; there was silence for a moment, then grunts of effort, and above all these things the doppelganger could hear Ishka's voice muttering mocking words in a singsong voice that made the tiny hairs on the back of Phendrana's neck stand on end. Unthinkingly he lurched a step back in the direction of the disturbance, and predictably Rosalles's hand caught him at the wrist and held him fast.

"No, Phendrana!" he growled as loudly as he dared. "We must put as much distance between ourselves and that man as we possibly can! I know not what vendetta he has against us, but we cannot hope to stand against one who can survive such grievous wounds!"

Phendrana teetered on the precipice of uncertainty for a moment longer, but Brennus's soft groans of exertion reached his ears and forced his hand. Tugged his arm free of Rosalles's grip he whispered, "The prince has risked much to deliver us to safety; I cannot abandon him. If we are willing to assist him, perhaps his monarch will show us clemency at the end of our road."

"What would you have me do?" Rosalles asked, his tone almost a plea, and turning away from him Phendrana searched the darkness with his keen eyes.

"Where have you left Ivy?"

"Here," came a familiar tinny voice from rather close by, but no matter how hard he squinted the doppelganger simply couldn't spot his little halfling friend hiding in the shadows.

"Take her and go," Phendrana told Rosalles. "Run until you find the cave's entrance, then keep running. Find Aidan and Aust and keep to the trade route. It will lead you to Waterdeep."

Predictably, the mercenary captain was quick to protest. "But – "

"No!" Phendrana interrupted him, rather harshly than he had originally intended. "Do as I say! I will be as quick to follow as I can!"

And without another word the doppelganger returned to the perpetual darkness of the cavern's deepest recesses, trusting Rosalles to follow his every word to the letter. He simply didn't have time to ensure that the man heeded him – something dreadful was about to happen to the Twelfth Prince of Shade, he knew, and his innate goodness of character demanded that he intervene on the man's behalf.

He traversed the corridors as swiftly as he dared without sacrificing too much stealth, but thankfully he wasn't made to travel far; the tunnel he was in widened out into a smaller antechamber sectioned off by floor-to-ceiling rock formations that may have been stalagmites and stalactites that had grown together over time. There appeared to be treacherous pits in the floor, easy traps that would have tripped up the careless traveler, and to his surprise he found the prince dangling from the edge of one of these as he clung for his life. Phendrana hesitated only slightly, for it occurred to him that the prince may have made himself appear helpless to bait Ishka into attacking him so that he could gain the upper hand, but he soon found that this was not the case.

"I don't suppose… I could trouble you… for a hand," Brennus gritted out dryly, and with a yelp Phendrana hastened to the edge of the pit and groped for the prince's hands.

"What happened to you?" he inquired, bracing his boots in an attempt at gaining traction.

Brennus's feet were scuffing along the sheer wall of the pit, but the stone there was smooth and he didn't expect he would find a foothold no matter how hard he tried. "The brute struck the sword from my hand, and his next two strokes almost felled me. Not to worry – the wounds are already healing themselves."

Phendrana blinked despite himself. "What?"

"Shades possess regeneration – all wounds, save fatal ones, can be healed by our body's unique makeup." There was a pause as they struggled at the ledge of the pit, Phendrana's fingertips cold and bloodless, and Brennus added, "The shadow is strong, and has many benefits."

"I see," Phendrana growled, and though he was impressed by what Brennus had shared he felt that the prince was understating the severity of his wounds. He appeared to be bleeding wisps of darkness, a moderate amount from his upper left leg and far more from the right side of his chest; the prince's breath was coming in heavy, labored gasps now, and it felt as though there was little strength left in his limbs. The doppelganger knew, gazing down into the prince's dully-gleaming bronze eyes, that it would be down to him to haul Brennus out of the pit.

As he watched Brennus's eyes slid past him and widened ever so slightly in perceived fear, and Phendrana remembered why it was so imperative that he hurry.

The doppelganger retreated within himself as he sought one of the familiar voices that resided in his mind, as all the while the feeling that a pair of predatory eyes were locked upon his back only intensified. _Vadania, you are strongest. When I give the command, you must help him. _He reached out with his mental influence almost desperately, somewhat relieved when Brennus received him readily, and said, _You must be prepared to strike when the time is right – you will know when!_

He ensured that his grip on the prince's hands was secure, waited until he felt the ominous presence practically bearing down upon him and Vadania was poised to spring into action, and then he executed his plan.

In the blink of an eye his entire appearance changed as he took on the guise of snow elf druid Vadania Frostflower, whose lithe white arms housed more strength than anyone might guess; she gritted her teeth and tightened the muscles in her back, digging in her heels, and tugged the Twelfth Prince fully out of the pit with a sudden surging of strength. Brennus used the forward momentum to fuel his strike, his feet hitting the ground lightly and his dominant hand shimmering as he prepared to conjure a weapon in his defense, and as he lunged forward toward Ishka it was apparent in the behemoth's expression that he would never be able to deter the prince's attack.

The serrated shadow blade leapt into existence in the instant before Brennus thrust his hand forward, and with a single brilliant maneuver he slashed through the heavy chain mail their enemy wore and severed his spine without the slightest trace of remorse. Ishka fell backward without a sound, his weight ripping him off the deadly blade as he did so.

Brennus turned back to face Vadania, to find that Phendrana had already taken her place. "An ingenious plan."

Phendrana spread his hands. "I am nothing if not thorough."

"That you are," Brennus agreed thoughtfully, but before Phendrana could ask him what had made him suddenly pensive the prince was shaking his head as though to collect his thoughts, and his expression became grim. "We should take our leave at once. I daresay that even such a fatal stroke as that will not be enough to keep our adversary from pursuing us for long – with any luck you can lose him in the foothills if you go quickly."

The doppelganger nodded his agreement and they set off through the narrow, winding passageways, Brennus silent as he led the way and Phendrana brooding a pace behind him. The prince's wounds were only slightly leaking shadow matter now, and there was only the hint of a limp in his step; perhaps he hadn't exaggerated the healing abilities his body possessed, and with that in mind Phendrana occupied himself with wondering just what the elusive shades were capable of.

Brennus's sense of direction was sharp, it seemed; he led them with sure steps down two corridors, turned three times, and abruptly they found themselves standing in the mouth of the cave blinking in the golden rays of the sun. Phendrana could see his friends up ahead, preparing to round a bend that would take them into the gently sloping foothills on the road to the south, but he didn't call out to them right away – instead he turned to the man beside him, whose perpetual veil of shadows had deepened to protect him from the harsh glare of the sunlight. "We are in your debt. I am not certain I know how we might repay you… Surely without your interference we would have perished back there."

The Twelfth Prince was squinting in the light, wearing an expression that suggested he was far from comfortable in his new surroundings; nevertheless when he addressed Phendrana he was as polite and genial as the doppelganger had come to expect. "I have only done what the High Prince expected of me – I require nothing from you. Continue on your way to Waterdeep, and take a little more caution on your journey. I am beginning to think you and your troupe are more renown than you know, and I daresay there will be no shortage of villains who would not hesitate to accost you on your way."

Phendrana suppressed the urge to shudder at the prince's ominous words, instead casting a fleeting glance over his shoulder – there were no footfalls upon the stone behind him, and the almost sickening sensation of dread he had felt before in Ishka's presence had all but faded into the crippling darkness behind him. "What of our enemy? For what reason would he have attacked us in the first place? We had no quarrel with him."

"I can only speculate," Brennus told him, "but if I had to guess I would say that he was hoping you would end his life for him."

Such a gruesome notion hadn't even occurred to Phendrana, who considered life the most precious gift of all. He turned an incredulous gaze upon the Twelfth Prince, saying, "I am not sure how you arrived at such a conclusion."

"Aren't you? Then let me elaborate – immortality is as much a gift as it is a curse, Phendrana. Those who fear death more than anything else may feel they have been given a boon at first, for that which they fear is no longer their concern, but that perspective changes over time. Loved ones will pass on, the shape of the land will change, and eventually that person's entire life will be something completely different than it was on the day he first began to walk the earth. Loneliness, isolation, and sorrow can kill a man as surely as any weapon, but those who are made to live forever can never escape their sadness. Over time he begins to pursue death, for it seems preferable." Brennus broke off then, his expression distinctly thoughtful, before he added in a soft undertone, "Eternal life is as much a gift as it is a curse, in that regard."

Phendrana cocked an eyebrow and asked one of the dozens of burning questions he had been harboring since the first moment he had crossed paths with the denizens of Thultanthar. "Are the Princes of Shade immortal?"

Brennus uttered a sigh that seemed pained in a way, and murmured, "So far."

A shiver coursed down Phendrana's spine at those words and on instinct he hugged himself, glancing back up the road as though to assure himself that his friends were still somewhere up ahead waiting for him. Whether by timing or some manner of ill omen he found that they had passed out of his line of sight, and though he knew that they were simply following his instructions he found that he longed for their company then so desperately that his chest ached.

Glancing back to his side he found that Twelfth Prince Brennus had similarly vanished, and the feeling of loneliness only intensified.


	10. Ten - Proposition

Ten: Proposition

Alabaster towers piercing the sapphire sky, the castle of the Lords of Waterdeep sat like a quiet protector upon a gently sprawling hill, its majesty visible from miles around and central to the mighty seaside city. It was common knowledge that Waterdeep's rulers kept watch over distant affairs from the lofty peak of the tallest spire, but the tower also played host to any number of powerful spellcasters from all over the Realms. Ristel wasted no time in bringing not only Phendrana, but all of the company from Baldur's Gate up to speed as he led the way through the sprawling avenues.

"The seven sisters of Mystra have all studied here – all Chosen of the goddess, and all unbelievably adept in the Art," the water genasi explained, his voice quavering with uncharacteristic excitement. "Lady Alustriel of Silverymoon herself, and Lady Laeral Blackstaff, as well as Laeral's famed husband Lord Blackstaff, Khelben Arunsun. It is even rumored that Elminster spent a year or two here in the midst of his travels."

_He's like a child at the turn of the year festival,_ laughed Alax good-naturedly, and he wasn't the only one amused by Ristel's excitement; Ivy was gazing interestedly up at the elemental savant as though hanging on his every word, and Aust, all but foreign to the ways of magic, gaped open-mouted at Ristel's back.

Pacing about the cavernous expanse of his subconscious mind, Phendrana was grateful that Ristel was occupying his friends' attentions so he could use the opportunity to mentally prepare himself for the crucial meeting that neared. Whether for good or ill he had decided to trust the Twelfth Prince of the City of Shade and attend the meeting between the Lords of Waterdeep and the Princes of Shade, and the others were now placing their faith in him by following his lead to Waterdeep Tower. The mindmaster had been over the scenario many times in his mind and could not for the life of him determine what business Thultanthar had with the Lords of Waterdeep, but on Brennus's suggestion he was willing to be a part of all that transpired.

_We will uncover the truth of this council together, _Zerena assured him with her typical cool composure, and Phendrana offered her a smile but did not break stride.

_It is not often that I haven't a clue what to expect, what with my unusual yet undeniably useful talents, _the doppelganger admitted grudgingly. _If I had even a hypothesis, the very faintest notion of what to expect from this gathering, I could make my assumptions and better prepare us all. But ambassadors from Shade meeting peaceably with the Lords of Waterdeep? It is an unexpected move from them. It casts all I thought I knew of them out of balance._

_Regardless, _broke in Alax, _clearly something of great importance is unfolding here today – something we were meant to see. Let us keep our counsel for now, Phendrana, and learn what we may as we observe._

It was a passive and intellectual suggestion, the kind of decision Phendrana himself generally made, but it gave him no comfort and his mind remained uneasy. Zerena began placidly plucking at the strings of her harp in an attempt to soothe him.

All the while Ristel remained alert as they drew near to the sharply-angled archway that served as Waterdeep Tower's primary entrance, for it became apparent in the last leg of their approach that a solitary figure awaited them at the gate. Coming closer they were met by a stern-faced wizard with hawkish eyes and a severely pointed nose, who watched them interestedly from beneath the hood of his somberly-colored cloak. Feeling Phendrana's uneasiness intensify Ristel raised one hand and bade the others to wait, approaching the figure alone to better gauge the man's intentions.

The wizard brushed his hood back to greet Ristel, at precisely the same moment the water genasi recognized the gnarled ebony staff the man carried. "Well met. So you are the doppelganger Phendrana? I elected myself to escort you inside. You are expected."

Ristel looked as though his birthday had come early when he breathed, "You are Khelben Arunsun, Lord of Blackstaff Tower!"

"Indeed," confirmed Khelben simply, eyeing Ristel the way a sane person studies a man whose mental health seems questionable. "Are you not the mindmaster Phendrana?"

Before Ristel could embarrass him or his companions any further Phendrana wrested control of his body away from the elemental savant, seizing control of his motor functions and shifting to his natural form in an instant. Adjusting his deep jade vestments Phendrana cleared his throat and politely bowed, hoping Lord Blackstaff was not too put out by such an unorthodox reception. "Forgive me, Lord Blackstaff – I meant no disrespect. My comrade Ristel Clearsea is quite enamored of the Chosen of Mystra and holds each of you in the highest esteem. And yes – I am Phendrana. I am honored by your salutation."

"As are we all," added Rosalles, mystified, and on a prompt from the seafaring mercenary the others copied Phendrana and offered Khelben Arunsun a bow.

"It is no trouble," assured Khelben with a light chuckle, turning for the entrance and beckoning for them to follow. "The honor is mine. But for now, come. It would not be well for you to be late on such an important occasion. The delegation from Shade will be here at any moment."

_Delegation?_ Kiora echoed instantly, but Phendrana understood.

_Away from the City of Shade, one Shadovar would not be taken very seriously at court with Waterdeep's rulers – even a shade of noble birth_, Phendrana explained. _But it seems the ruler of Shade has appointed several of his most trusted emissaries to keep this meeting from becoming a mere farce. This can mean only one thing: Shade is coming here to negotiate with Waterdeep._

_On what matter?_ Xanther pressed concernedly.

Phendrana sighed. _That has yet to be seen._

Khelben led them up the largest stairway to the tallest tower, to an ovular room that had the air of a quiet reception area; this room he passed right over, seeking the only door at the opposite end of the chamber. Upon entry, Phendrana and the others had only a moment to perceive the masked men seated in a semicircle at the northern end of the audience hall, and then the chamber darkened as the delegation from Thultanthar shadow-walked right into their midst.

They came with a pageantry, with a kind of beauty.

Impossibly tall yet graceful and robust was the first, the regal-looking shade that Phendrana instantly recognized as the shade that Soleil had taken the phaerimm egg for at Shadowdale. He was outfitted in full battle raiment complete with a breastplate of mithril outlined in amethyst, the standard of Thultanthar; a massive sword lay nestled against his back, a blade so large that Phendrana wouldn't have been able to lift it with all his physical strength, and his eyes shone copper within the gloom.

Smaller and more compact, the second shade was dressed quite differently than the first. He was hooded and cloaked so secretively that only his burning silver eyes were visible within his murk-swaddled face; he wore the garb of a master assassin but richly-woven, hinting at his noble birth and proud lineage. No weapons were visible upon his person, but no one was foolish enough to believe that he carried none.

The third shade was slightly taller than the second, but much lither than his two brothers – a spellcasters' build, Phendrana surmised immediately. He wore rippling robes of a violet hue so deep it could nearly be misconstrued as black, and his pewter eyes pierced through the lingering shadows with startling clarity.

The last of them was the only one Phendrana really recognized – the smallest shade of the group, the one with the curiously intelligent face and the unusual bronze eyes who called himself Twelfth Prince Brennus. Like his brother that had come before him he wore floor length robes of a charcoal gray, but emblazoned with odd runes the doppelganger did not recognize and couldn't even begin to translate. Their eyes met for a split second as the darkness billowing from the trans-dimensional rift through which they had traveled began to fade, during which Brennus offered Phendrana the barest nod of recognition.

"My Lords," began the tallest of the Shadovar, with a bow that seemed far too gracious of him. "We are deeply honored by your acceptance of our offer of counsel. May I introduce the delegation that the Most High has sent to do his bidding: this is Fourth Prince Aglarel – " He indicated the cloaked shade, " – Ninth Prince Vattick – " He gestured toward the shade with the spellcaster's build, " – and Twelfth Prince Brennus. I am First Prince Escanor. You honor us with your audience." At Escanor's signal his three brothers bowed low in greeting; the First Prince's salutation was met with silence and a bitter, barely audible snort that may have come from Fourth Prince Aglarel.

Ivy's eyes grew wide during the introductions, until at last she whispered in trepidation, "More Princes of Shade!"

"And the First Prince," Aidan murmured back to the excitable halfling, carefully memorizing the faces of each shade. "Clearly this meeting has greater significance than most of us might have anticipated."

The Open Lord, a sage by the name of Piergieron Paladinson, took his place with a grand sweeping of his robes in the center of the line of unmoving Masked Lords, though his grandeur seemed lackluster with the mighty Princes of Shade in the room. "Welcome, Princes of Shade – we are honored by your visit." Paladinson then turned to Phendrana and his companions and bade them welcome. "We have all heard tell of the mindmaster doppelganger and his companions, who have brought peace and prosperity back to the Sword Coast after it was besieged for many months by pirates. Phendrana, you are most welcome here. Perhaps your companions might introduce themselves?"

Phendrana nodded in acquiescence – after all, this seemed a reasonable and harmless request – and his eyes flitted instantly to Aidan; the tiefling lowered her head slightly, the most obeisance she had ever paid anyone. "Aidan Alderoak, of Chult."

Ivy curtsied politely. "Ivy Meehan, of the Dalelands."

Aust was not at all interested in diplomacy – or politics at all, for that matter – and so only crossed his arms across his chest in a most inhospitable fashion and said, "Aust."

Rosalles bowed, a sweeping gesture that also seemed more than their host deserved. "My name is Alvaro Rosalles, Captain of the _Water Falcon_ under the command of Duke Eltan of Baldur's Gate."

"Now that we are all acquainted," pressed Phendrana, anxious to get to the crux of the matter, "might I inquire as to the nature of this council? What is it that the City of Shade has come to negotiate with Waterdeep?"

The general hush in the audience chamber grew even more profound; First Prince Escanor gaped at the mindmaster, as though he could not wrap his mind around the question. "Were you not told?" inquired Ninth Prince Vattick, aghast at the prospect. "We are here on behalf of the Most High to attempt to form a peaceable alliance with Waterdeep."

"Though if these negotiations prove just as disastrous as the last, the Most High will certainly be displeased by our efforts upon our return," drawled Fourth Prince Aglarel, his eyes severe.

"There have been others?" marveled Ivy. "These aren't the first?"

"Tell me, Ninth Prince Vattick of Shade," snapped Paladinson, overriding Aglarel's mild outburst and Ivy's musings. "How do you believe that we can come to a peaceable arrangement?"

Vattick glanced up at Escanor as though seeking permission, and Escanor nodded encouragingly so the Ninth Prince answered without hesitation. "Your Eminence, Waterdeep only stands to gain from a mutual arrangement with the great enclave of Thultanthar. We are a mighty force; our armies are strong of arm and will, and our arcanists wield magics that are foreign to most other nations. In the event that Waterdeep ever became imperiled, you would benefit greatly from having such a strong ally beside you should the conflict come to blows."

The Ninth Prince stepped back in line beside Aglarel; Brennus beamed at him, and he smirked victoriously to himself. Lord Paladinson shifted on his feet, looking distinctly unsettled. "Informative, appealing, and a threat all at once. Very well spoken, Prince. But let us say, for argument's sake, that we do come to such an alliance. There are many rumors circulating through Faerun concerning your city. Such rumors are difficult to quell… especially where the misinformed are concerned."

Brennus cleared his throat politely as he glanced inquisitively up at Escanor, and when he had permission to speak he turned to the Open Lord and spoke coolly. "Let us say for the sake of this discussion, Lord Paladinson, that we are unfamiliar with the rumors you speak of."

"Then allow me to speak plainly," Paladinson snapped impatiently. "There are rumors that your city plans only to bring about mass destruction and genocide wherever your High Prince sets his sights, and that every peaceable alliance you might seek to form can only end with that nation's unceremonious end."

"What are you insinuating?" roared Aglarel, stalking forward a single step in his fury, but thankfully Vattick caught him by the wrist and stopped him in his tracks. "That we are demons and heretics? That Thultanthar is a cancer to Faerun, a plague upon Toril, and that our noble Netherese ancestors should be denied their very birthright?"

Escanor's voice was a growl when he snapped his copper gaze upon the Fourth Prince and said, "Peace, Aglarel!"

Phendrana chose to speak up bravely, before those gathered could erupt into all-out hostility. "Explain to me this – would not forging an alliance between your two great nations pacify your populace? Could you not quell these rumors with one simple action?"

"Not in the slightest," Vattick answered, his tone a bit steely in his reply. "Greater Faerun would then begin to question the leadership of Waterdeep, and their alliance with the Lords of Shade. Waterdeep's treasured reputation would likely be tarnished."

"Paladinson knows this, and that is why he shies away from our offer despite the potential gains," sneered Aglarel.

The Unmasked Lord was careful to regard Phendrana, and only Phendrana, when he responded. "In a rational and logical world you would be speaking the truth… however, we do not live in such a world. For now I will say only that the Masked Lords and I have much to consider here."

"Then allow me to state our business, that we might better negotiate these affairs," Escanor broke in smoothly, in effect ending any forthcoming debate. "My Lords, here now is the Most High's express wish – it is his intention to begin a large-scale conquest of the Heartlands, effective without delay."

Phendrana staggered back a step, reeling at the proposal set forth by the Shadovar, as at the same moment Alax murmured, _So here is the true reason._ Glancing feverishly from one side to the other, Phendrana found himself less surprised by Escanor's confession and far more shocked by Paladinson's reaction – an expression of blatant boredom, as though he had heard all these words before. "And you believe that this is the best course of action, why?"

"That is simple," Aglarel answered hotly. "Because we will be taking back what is rightfully ours!"

"According to whom?" snarled Lord Paladinson, no longer interested in maintaining his façade of overall courtesy. "Or what, for that manner? Ancient texts that are near disintegration? It would be extremely difficult to find anyone who was alive when the Netherese kingdom was at its height to vouch for such a bold statement."

Brennus pointedly cleared his throat, and all eyes inevitably fell upon him. "As it happens, Lord Paladinson, one yet remains within Thultanthar who remembers well these events as they occurred."

"One man will be difficult to believe," scoffed Paladinson negligently. "And you can hardly expect this congregation to assume your words are true as you speak them!"

"You would dare question the word of Most High Telamont Tanthul?!" shouted Brennus, stalking toward the Open Lord with sparks of rage flying from his bronze eyes, but fortunately Escanor was there to seize him by the elbow and keep him from doing anything rash. "Most High Telamont, the very same Lord Shadow of legend?! Most High Telamont, he who extricated Thultanthar from the Material Plane just days before Karsus's Folly destroyed all the rest of the Netherese Empire?! Most High Telamont, he who labored for seventeen centuries to return the last of the proud Netherese Imperium to the land from which they sojourned?!"

"You dare belittle the Dark Father of Shade?!" Vattick joined in, his pewter eyes on fire.

"There is no need for hostilities," said Paladinson with more than a little disdain. "I am merely stating the skepticism of myself and the other members of this council."

"And yet you are denying a witness in a council?" Aidan observed.

Seeing that their group of neutral observers was beginning to favor the Shadovar on such a great matter, Paladinson attempted to backpedal. "If you truly believe that he holds the truth of this matter, then bring him forth. We would be delighted to make the acquaintance of the Most High Prince of Shade. Perhaps he could shed a little… ah… _light_ on the matter."

_Humor?_ drawled Ristel distastefully. _Really?_

Phendrana watched the Lords of Waterdeep as they chuckled at Paladinson's tactless jest, amazed and reeling inside, for the tables had turned on everything he thought he had known to be true. Now that the veil of perceptions had been torn away, Waterdeep seemed to be the clear transgressors.

"Lord Paladinson," First Prince Escanor broke in, in a voice that was quieter but somehow far more dangerous than his brothers'. "With the greatest possible respect, you cannot expect us to sit idly by and allow you and your fellow councilmen to slander the Most High in such a manner. I can no longer abide to be in your presence. Here, now, are our terms: the City of Shade wishes to begin overtaking the regions of the Heartlands, including Cormyr, the Silver Marches, and Tilverton, without delay. We have already pledged to aid Waterdeep in any future hardships it may incur. In exchange, we will expect Waterdeep to support us as we labor to regain that which is rightfully ours." Escanor drew in a breath, presumably to calm himself, before he continued. "The Most High is generously granting your council three days to reach a decision. At that time, a delegation will return to hear your verdict."

"For now, we must return to the City of Shade to consult with the rest of the Shadow Court," finished Vattick impatiently. "The Most High awaits."

A gout of shadow poured from an extadimensional shift in the room, and as the Most High's emissaries prepared to shadow walk back to the enclave Aglarel turned back and growled, "Be warned, Lords – the Princes of Shade will not tolerate one more insult to the Most High's honor. Hold your tongues when next we meet, or you may find yourselves without them."

The clouds of shadow gradually dissipated, leaving no evidence that the delegation from Thultanthar had ever been among them, and Phendrana wordlessly led his companions out of the audience chamber.

* * *

In the bleak darkness that was the Shadow Realm, Twelfth Prince Brennus heard the voice of his patron speak to him.

_Now is the time for you to sow the seed of doubt in Phendrana's mind, my son – the seed that, by the divine grace of Shar, will grow into a great symbol of Thultanthar's wrath and retribution. Do not fail me._

And so Brennus bowed to his three older brothers by way of farewell, and turned back for Waterdeep.

* * *

Only on an insistent suggestion from Aust that they partake in a lighthearted activity did Phendrana concede to follow his companions into one of the livelier gambling establishments that lined the busiest lane of Waterdeep. The others seemed grateful for the opportunity to relax but Phendrana wished he were alone – he desperately needed time with his thoughts, time to make sense of all that had transpired at Waterdeep Tower.

The Princes of Shade, from all he had witnessed, were arrogant in their everlasting secrecy and prone to bouts of spontaneous pride, but their attempts to negotiate with the Lords of Waterdeep had cast the two opposing sides into the revealing light of truth. The careless disrespect with which Piergieron Paladinson had treated the delegation from Thultanthar was appalling to Phendrana – weren't the Lords of Waterdeep supposed to be righteous leaders whose greatest aspiration was to strive for universal peace? Did they not claim to regard all races with fairness and generosity? It made Phendrana sick to his stomach to think that not only had the ruling body of Waterdeep fallen embarrassingly short of their almost saint like reputations, he himself had believed the jaded murmurs spoken of both sides until witnessing the truth with his own eyes. And was Prince Aglarel being honest? Had Shade proposed an alliance with Waterdeep before? Had the Open Lords conducted that council with a similar air of injustice?

Questions with no answers chased themselves throughout every crevice of Phendrana's conscious mind, so disorienting that they stifled the voices of the other six, and when at last Phendrana became acutely aware of his surroundings he found himself face to face with the bronze eyed prince called Brennus.

Was this a coincidence? The mindmaster glanced around the gambling hall in what he hoped was a surreptitious manner – perhaps the shade prince was expecting one of his kin? Seeing no one that fit the description of the Shadovar, though, Phendrana glanced back at the shade with open curiosity; the prince nodded and beckoned to him, his eyes on the doppelganger's expectant. Phendrana approached with a measure of uncertainty.

"You are considering that which you bore witness to with great care, I see," greeted Brennus. "Did you find your visit to Waterdeep Tower enlightening?"

Phendrana considered, but answered honestly after a measured silence. "The afternoon did not progress as I had expected, I must admit."

"The Most High expected you would react that way," admitted Brennus knowingly, surveying Phendrana keenly with those unusual bronze eyes. "That is why he made certain to extend to you and your companions a special invitation to these meetings."

"It was you who brought the event to my attention," Phendrana pointed out suspiciously.

The Twelfth Prince merely laughed at first, then explained, "All decrees come directly from the Most High, whether it is apparent or not. I am just as loyal to the High Prince as his other eleven sons are."

"There are… twelve?!" gaped the doppelganger, his eyes widening in surprise.

"The Most High is more than three millennia old, and is just as healthy now as he was in the previous age," assured Brennus with a bemused smile. "By the blessing of Shar he has fathered twelve sons, all of pure Netherese descent, thus securing his legacy. But enough of that for now – I did not come here to share with you my father's life story. I am here for a bit of sport, and to deliver a proposition to you."

They had been walking for the duration of their idle chatter, and they stopped now at a vacant table in a relatively secluded corner of the gambling hall upon which was stacked a deck of cards for a game of strategy that Phendrana had often played with Aust in the taverns in Baldur's Gate, a game called Three Dragon Ante. His eyes flitted back to Brennus's, and his voice was dubious when he spoke. "Am I to understand that you are challenging me to a battle of wits, Prince? Because if you are, I must stress upon you the gravity of the mistake you are making."

Brennus's bronze eyes glinted mischievously as he gestured for the mindmaster to take up the seat across from him. "Allow me to be the judge of that."

"Fair enough," Phendrana conceded, and he sat. "Your proposition?"

The cards levitated off the table and effortlessly shuffled themselves before dealing out two hands of seven cards each and settling innocently back upon the wooden surface; Brennus took up his hand and gave it a brief once over, as though nothing extraordinary had taken place. Phendrana copied him, though with a certain measure of reluctance. "What I have to say comes directly from the High Prince himself, Phendrana, and be warned – it will likely take you completely by surprise."

Thinking of his six deceased friends Phendrana laughed once and said, "I am seldom surprised in my line of work."

"Then you will not be surprised to hear that the Most High wishes you to join his esteemed Shadow Court by becoming a shade."

To his credit, Phendrana's eyes widened only slightly at this news, and his gasp of shock was slight. Brennus played his first card with a thin-lipped smile.

_Phendrana,_ warned Alax softly, _you should leave at once. The Princes of Shade have gone too far this time._

It was sound logic – that much the mindmaster couldn't deny – but he found that the intrigue was just too strong. Curiosity kept Phendrana rooted to his seat, staring down at the card Brennus had played with perfect incredulity, before exclaiming, "You have the audacity to even consider stripping me of my identity?!"

"Of course not," the Twelfth Prince chuckled idly. "The Most High is never audacious."

Their eyes met, Phendrana's fuming and affronted, Brennus's bemused, before the doppelganger conceded to lay a card of his own. Every fiber of his being begged him to turn his back on the proposal, but for reasons he couldn't explain he instead remained perfectly still. "What does the High Prince want with me? Compared to his emissaries I am utterly insignificant."

Brennus laid a second card – even this early in the game Phendrana could clearly recognize the prince's skill. Ristel and Alax, both particularly adept at games that were steeped in probability and odds, set to devising a strategy while Phendrana considered Brennus's next words. "Ah, but you belittle your own talents. Your list of accomplishments is long for one so young."

"Young? Phendrana echoed incredulously. "I have seen one hundred and twenty winters."

"Yes, and I have seen one thousand, two hundred and seventy two." Brennus snickered but moved on almost at once. "The point, Phendrana, is that the Most High has divined a use for you, one that he believes you would fulfill to the best of your considerable abilities."

Now Phendrana was feeling confrontational, sparked by the High Prince's many lofty suppositions; he leaned forward across the table, his face barely inches away from the prince's, who did not shrink back even a millimeter. "The Most High presumes much, considering I have not yet become acquainted with him and still he is plotting a place for me in his enclave."

"Then tell me, Phendrana – is it not your personal mission to assist others in achieving their endeavors? Do you not search far and wide for a place where your valorous nature will do the most good in assisting the forces of righteousness? Is it not your single greatest aspiration to be a hero yourself?"

Phendrana glared back, defiant yet momentarily cowed, and said nothing; Brennus chuckled again. "And the Most High can give me that?"

"And more. All your dreams in exchange for your support and servitude."

Phendrana raised his head and squared his jaw. "I am no one's slave."

Brennus played out the last of his hand, easily obliterating Phendrana's feeble attempts at winning the round; in the back of his mind, Phendrana clearly heard Alax and Ristel devising a new strategy. "Of course you're not. You are an uncharacteristically talented individual on the brink of becoming an integral cob in a seamlessly-working machine."

It was a striking thought; curiosity got the better of him, and Phendrana couldn't help asking, "How does one become a shade, Prince?"

He couldn't be positive, but Phendrana thought he saw Twelfth Prince Brennus shudder delicately. The Shadovar noble placed the cards in his hand facedown upon the table, collecting his thoughts before answering the question as best he could. "The process of becoming a shade is so involved, so precarious, that only the Most High himself can successfully complete it without utterly destroying the intended recipient. In Thultanthar, it is the very highest honor a Shadovar can receive. The most notable step in the procedure is this – in order to become a shade, one must surrender one's soul in exchange for the pure essence of shadow."

Phendrana stared back, horrified. "What is it… like?"

Brennus's eyes were focused on a point very far away; he seemed to have forgotten Phendrana's presence. "I only vaguely recall it… I do remember that I have never endured such pain before, and I suspect I never will again. My brothers would tell you the same."

"May I ask one more question?"

Brennus's unfocused gaze cleared. "If I can answer, I will."

"If Soleil is truly in the High Prince's favor, why does she remain a half elf in the presence of so many shades?"

"There are many reasons. Firstly, as a mountebank Soleil is no longer in possession of her own soul – she pledged it to the Most High and received inconceivable powers in return. Secondly, there are certain advantages we retain in keeping Soleil as she is. And thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, it is a law in our city that only those of Netherese descent may become shades. Unfortunately, Soleil does not fulfill that requirement."

Phendrana blinked confusedly. "Nor am I, so how then does the Most High presume to - ?"

The Twelfth Prince interrupted him smoothly. "Were you not born in Cormyr, the very same fabled city that was once a cornerstone of the Netherese Imperium?"

The very breath froze in the mindmaster's lungs. "How did you - ?"

"I have told you," Brennus interrupted again. "The Most High knows all. You are descended from the Netherese archwizards who once ruled supreme over the Heartlands. If it is within your heart's desires to become a shade, the High Prince will see it done."

The loremaster started then as though he had remembered something important, and slipping one hand into the concealed breast pocket within his robes he withdrew a black envelope embroidered with silver lettering penned in a distinctly elegant hand; this he passed across the table to the stunned mindmaster, not at all put out when Phendrana simply gazed down at it, dumbfounded. After a time Phendrana seemed to recover himself and took up the envelope with a slightly-trembling hand, and tugging a sheaf of black paper out of the unsealed envelope he briefly skimmed its contents.

"The High Prince has requested your presence at his upcoming birthday celebration," Brennus explained helpfully, studying the doppelganger's face carefully for any hint of emotion, and their eyes met over the topmost edge of the invitation. "He does not often leave the unrivaled protection that Shade Enclave has to offer, but has expressed his desire to meet you in person." Phendrana opened his mouth in a sure sign of protest, but Brennus had anticipated his fears and overrode him. "Your companions are, of course, welcome to accompany to this joyous occasion, and you will find all of the details included in your invitation." He paused long enough to flash Phendrana a smile that included one last brief glimpse of his ceremonial fangs before finishing, "The Most High hopes that, in meeting face to face, he will be able to answer many of your inquiries and assuage any lingering fears you may have."

Phendrana watched, utterly shaken, as Brennus abandoned his chair and stole along the side of the table to the doppelganger's side, whereupon he paused to add in a conspiratorial undertone, "Consider the proposition you have been offered carefully as you continue upon your way, and do not concern yourself with keeping in touch. When it is prudent that we speak again, the Princes of Shade will find you."

Phendrana nodded numbly to himself long after Brennus had vanished into the crowds, and did not become aware of his surroundings until the image of a shadow-swathed, silver-eyed doppelganger drove him from his morbid thoughts.


End file.
